Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Izuku never gave himself a vigilante name. In all honesty, he forgot. It got lost in the blur of accidentally stumbling into one attempted crime, to which he may or may not have intervened, hood pulled down low, a random metal pipe in hand, then another two all in the same week. The third of which he helped out Eraserhead (ohmigod it’s ERASERHEAD – he’s so cool his Quirk is so useful, he's such a good fighter, he keeps himself such a mystery, blah, blah, blah, he rambles internally) and the hero doesn’t even try to chase after him or anything. And so in this way, he remains fairly unnoticed at first.

But then Izuku begins to turn his late-night wonderings into something resembling patrols.

He begins to listen in on villain conversations and hack Eraserhead’s email and phone to message him with said information, just labelling himself as ‘your favourite vigilante’. During the day, he free runs amongst trash and through rundown parks, jumping and flipping and moving until his muscles scream with something in between agony and victory. He analyses heroes and villains and civilians, learns even more about Quirks and psychology and biology than he knew before, and that had already been a significant amount.

A name honestly just slips his mind. He’s so hyper-focused on being able to save people, that even a Quirkless twelve, soon-thirteen year old can do something, that he just doesn’t care about minor details like a vigilante name.

Yet one day, heading towards where he knows Eraserhead should be patrolling this evening, hopefully with a spare snack and coffee in tow, he hears a loud voice exclaim,

“But I want to meet your Kidilante!”

“Shut up Mic,” comes Aizawa’s deadpan voice but apparently the blond (ohmigod it’s Present Mic, civilian name Yamada Hizashi, his Quirk- no, no, focus Izuku, pay attention-) warrants an undercurrent of aggravation. Izuku’s beginning to think that he should be taking notes.

After all, trying the underground hero’s patience is a good way to test whether or not he can be trusted. Sure, Izuku wants to think the best of the incredibly skilled hero who has yet to seriously try to arrest him and who seems to genuinely care about people, both victims and Izuku himself, albeit in a gruff way, but that doesn’t mean he can actually trust him. So, annoying the fuck out of him is a good way to see what he truly think of Izuku, what his true intentions are.

“Fine, fine, I’ll leave you to your shift. But I wanna meet him – tell him Present Mic says hi!”

“Whatever. Not like that’ll freak him out or anything.” But Izuku has already stopped listening. Hm, Kidilante. That just might work.

It’s later that evening, belly full of half a cheese and onion sandwich that had been shoved towards him by the pro hero as they sat on a rooftop, just about a metre apart, both eating, Izuku only doing so because Aizawa had let him choose out of the unopened packet first, that the hero asks,

“Why do you use a frying pan?”

“Easy to get ahold of and pretty hefty. And it’s like me!” comes the bright reply, bubbly and light. Aizawa is experienced enough with the vigilante to hear the edge of warning, of caution, in the tone.

"You're not a pan."

"Aren't I? You tell me." And the edge is gone now, leaving playful banter in its wake.

"But you're a human being!" Aizawa can't help but lament, groaning in frustration because the kid always does this, always talks in cryptic circles that remind him far too much of Nedzu. Kami forbid the two ever meet.

"Well duh," comes the immediate snark,
"I never said I wasn't. Are you feeling alright? Want some medicine? I could steal you- sorry, find you some."

“Kid, stealing is a crime.”

“Good thing I never do that then,” Izuku chirps, only half sarcastic. And though he narrows his eyes at the brat of a vigilante, Aizawa doesn’t push. It’s only been a few months after all. Maybe once he’s earned more of the kid’s trust he’ll try to fish for more information…

It’s another six months on when Aizawa finally fully earns Izuku’s trust – his Kidilante’s trust.

They have been investigating a ring of people traffickers who had a particular habit of taking pro heroes and selling them to, apparently, a fucking cult of all things. And said cult appeared to be performing some kind of Satanic rituals or the like, carving into the heroes whilst they were still alive, then slitting their throats once the ‘ritual’ was complete. Eraserhead and his kid had watched one of these rituals, their perch a roof opposite the warehouse. It had been agony for them both, to have to crouch there in the darkness, shoulder to shoulder, and watch as some idiots with too much money and dark cloaks chanted gibberish and carved nonsense symbols into the gagged man's chest.

When the two had arrived, it had already been too late, the ritual was already in full swing, and they were left with no choice but to observe. Aizawa had tried to turn his kid around, because a teenager did not need to be seeing this, but the brat had stubbornly refused, whispering in a tone very different to his usual snark,

"He deserves to be remembered." And okay, maybe his kid was going to traumatise himself even further, and Aizawa really shouldn't be allowing this, but it was a sentiment he understood all too well. Not the most logical one, but the underground hero kind of reckoned that he'd fulfilled his daily quota of logic with not jumping in to try and save the hero.

So for now, he slowly wrapped an arm around his kiddo's shoulders, glad to feel him relax into his side after a few tense moments, and watched the man die together. It was definitely a bonding experience, albeit not a fun one.

That bond only grows further later that week, when Izuku is going to watch the warehouse in preparation for a hero raid led by Aizawa in just under an hour’s time. But apparently their vantage point has been discovered as, when he got up to the roof, he is immediately met with three masked and cloaked figures. Now Izuku is a good fighter by this point – a brilliant one, even. He is quick and clever and capable, able to analyse opponents and utilise his surroundings. But one off-guard kid up against three prepared adults, particularly when two of them have tranquiliser guns, is not a good match up. And, whilst taking out his second opponent, Izuku’s neck is caught by one of said tranquilisers and he goes down hard. Ouch.

Half an hour later, he wakes up, groggy and disorientated, to find himself tied up, mask thankfully still on, with dark figures surrounding him, looming in his vision.

"It was not our intention to perform a ritual for Our Lord tonight, but by his will you were given to us and so for his will we shall return you as he would have you," intones a voice, neither distinctly male or female, a droning monotone that is all too familiar. After all, Izuku has heard that voice chanting bullshit for the last week or so. And now it's him on the altar.

Struggling and writhing, Izuku tries to break the bonds, feeling them give just a little under his movements, but then a hand comes to rest on his neck and everything stops. Wait, no, not everything. His body has stopped, paralysed, yet he is still breathing, still thinking. Must be a paralysis Quirk that only affects non-essential functions, he idly notes, trying to push aside his internal panic. Yet said panic can only grow as one of the occultists raises a very recognisable knife and cuts away his hoodie, then rests the point against his sternum. The blade must be well-sharpened, because it begins to sink in until it makes a slight, jarring scrape. It must have come to rest against the actual bone of his sternum. Kami, this is actually happening, they're actually going to kill him. But what can he do? He can't move, even as the figure begins to circle the blade around, drawing the beginning of the pentagram in lines of flesh and searing pain that makes him want to scream but he can't, he can't do anything, nobody will be here in time to save-

"KID!" Another black figure, this one different, surrounded by floating strips of grey-white, drops from the ceiling, right on top of the figure with the knife, the blade gouging just that little bit further into Izuku's chest before clattering away, to the floor.

And beside him is Eraserhead in all his capture scarf and red-eyed glory, kicking away all the nearby figures, presumably for other heroes to deal with, judging by the cacophony of fighting sounds, then the underground hero turns and is frantically cutting away Izuku's binds, freeing him, talking to him, checking over his wounds. But as he fades into unconsciousness, all Izuku registers are his words.

"You're alright kiddo, you're safe now, I've got you, you'll be fine, I'll look after you, I'll be here."

It's the next morning that Izuku wakes up in an unfamiliar room, this one with pale grey walls and too many bookshelves to be a hospital. Plus, Aizawa is asleep in that ugly yellow thing that Izuku had spotted in a shop window one evening and jokingly told the underground hero to buy for naps. Then the weirdo actually had and looked to genuinely use it. Well, he was asleep in it right now either way.

"Mm'raserhead?" he croaks, voice hoarse and chest sore, voice muffled even further because his mask, thank Kami, is still on his face, keeping his identity a secret.

"Kid!" Aizawa yelps, abruptly waking up. His startled expression would be funny in any other situation, but right now Izuku's feeling too rough to appreciate it.

"'m sorry I got caught," he goes on, needing to apologise for all the hassle he's undoubtedly caused. Stupid Izuku, he can never get anything right anymore, can he? Then again, could he ever?

"Don't be dumb kiddo. It's not your fault. Plus, you're only a brat. It's logical to assume that you won't get everything right all the time. Even us adults don't. And you do a damn sight better than my students tend to."  Izuku manages to snort at that, snarking in return,

"Yeh but Dadzawa, they're hero students, not vigilantes. They have no chance!"

They both pause for a moment at 'Dadzawa', stiff and awkward, but then the man's face softens a little and he stretches a hand out of his sleeping bag, coming to card through Izuku's unruly hair, carefully avoiding the silver mask.

"Thanks Dadzawa. For everything."  The man hums in reply, coming to kneel beside the bed, abandoning his sleeping bag, staying silent but no less comforting for it. Izuku appreciates that as he lets his tears slip down the inside of the metal, cooling his face. They stay that way for a long time. 

Another year later, Izuku is fourteen and is more than established as a local vigilante, even if victims very, very rarely hear his name. Or his unofficial work partner’s, to be honest. Neither of them like the attention.

“Eraserhead – duck!” Aizawa is halfway through a fight, doling out short, sharp blows to the bulky mutant type in front of him. He's winning, he's fine, but that's his kid's voice and in the split second it takes him to think all this, he's already ducking down low, hearing the whistling of a blade, feeling it cut the tips of some his hair. A moment later he's stood straight again and fighting his mutant already, trusting the kid to take out whatever opponent has snuck up behind him. There are a few grunts, then a cut-off scream that isn't his kid's, and a solid thud of a body hitting a wall.

In the corner of his eye, a blur of black and silver shifts, then whirls past, a staff flashing out to knock the mutant across the back of his head, toppling the criminal to the side.

Without another thought, the two of them spin to stand back to back, Aizawa all too aware of how short his companion is, the warmth of his kid only reaching half way up his back.

"Sorted," the vigilante huffed. Eraserhead scrutinises the alley for a good few longer seconds, then relaxes a little, moving to pull the heavy duty handcuffs from his utility belt and restrain the mutant first. He would be more of a pain to deal with if he woke up again. 

"Thanks kiddo," he began, squinting through his hair as it fell around his face, leaning over to restrain the mutant. He really should start tying it back.

"What? The big bad underground hero appreciates the help of little ol' me?" The vigilante teases, something reaching pain in his voice. At the tone, Aizawa whips around, quirk subconsciously flickering on as he pins the kiddo with a searching glare.

"Oi, kid, you better not be hurt," he warns, eyeing the other villain - a lanky man, silver hair, out cold and bleeding a little, shouldn't be a problem any time soon - as he stalks over to his kid.

"Nah, I'm fine..." Aizawa raises an eyebrow in return, knowing the brat can see it despite the goggles.

"Shut it Eraserdad! I- Fine, alright, I may have had a little run-in with Endeawhore. The bitch."

And now that tightness in his voice makes sense. And the way that the kid is standing somehow lopsided, one hand hovering over his side, the fabric scorched and black.

"Language kiddo. And do you need medicine? Can I get you anything? Do you want Recovery Girl? She'll let you keep your mask on." And, okay, maybe Aizawa is rambling, but this is his kid and he can't let him stay hurt. One day this kid will finally trust him enough to tell him who he is, and at that point it'll be time to adopt him, no more questions asked. Until then, the hero will do whatever he can to keep his brat as healthy and safe as a most-likely-homeless young vigilante can be.

It’s almost another year on again, when Aizawa is faced with a hellhole of a new homeroom, and they haven’t even had a single lesson yet. At the Entrance Exams, there was a joint first place which, in and of itself, is pretty rare. That one of those two kids got in on pure villain points isn't unheard of, but to get so many isn't common. Then for his peer to get an almost even split of rescue points and villain points doesn't at first seem remarkable, until you read the second kid's file and realise that he's fucking Quirkless.

Now, don't take this the wrong way - Aizawa respects the Quirkless. He honestly, truly does because with the number of Quirkless people that have fought back against villains, that he has talked away from roof edges and seen thrive despite abuse, how could he not? And that isn't even going into personal reasons such as his own Quirk and fighting style. Or his Kid and how convinced the underground hero is that his brat is Quirkless.

(And if he's not then it's a passive Quirk or a mental one, Aizawa knows - the kid doesn't react when Erasure is aimed at him, doesn't even flinch - even the most hardened villains reel for a split second at their Quirk being interfered with.)

Regardless, this year's class promises to contain potential but will surely be all the more exhausting for it. And of course, Aizawa is ever aware that this might be the year that his kid joins UA. This is the second potential year group for his kid, and he's determined to identify him if he ever walks within a foot of the school campus. He's fairly sure the brat would apply to both the General Studies and Hero Course, and should get into the second, between his tactics, analysis and physical capabilities.

Of course, he might go down the Gen Ed route to prove a point, to hide from Aizawa or even just through a lack of self-belief. Yeh, the last one wouldn't surprise him much. Far too many of the kid's jokes were self-deprecating ones.

But whether or not Midoriya Izuku could possibly be his Kidilante, Aizawa refuses to take any prisoners in his usual first-day Quirk assessment, because the teen should be capable enough, Quirk or no. And indeed, Midoriya comes seventh - he is only beaten out by those whose Quirks gave them significant advantages in a few, or more, of the tests. His physical fitness, as a rule, far outweighs anybody else's. No, he's not quite the physically strongest, but he's by far the fastest and definitely one of the most flexible, barring three of the girls. A Hagakure Tooru comes in last, with Shinsou Hitoshi barely above her, but both have unsuitable Quirks and, whilst clearly not having done anywhere near enough training, they don't seem to completely lack potential. Looks like-

"Hey there! Your name's Midoriya, right? I'm Ashido Mina! What was your Quirk? I didn't see you using it at all!"  Ah, Aizawa thinks, his reaction to this should be pretty telling. But he's something close to disappointed when the green-haired kid replies with a stutter overriding the silent steel lingering in his voice,

"Ah, uhm, I- I'm Quirkless." And yes, admitting that takes a lot of guts (and if he hadn't, Aizawa would have likely been forced to expose the kid sooner or later for it) but that voice doesn't really sound like his kid's. It's close admittedly, but really only similar in the way that all teenage boys are. Something about the intonation is familiar, but it's ruined by the stutter and distinct lack of sass.

For now, he'll put Midoriya towards the bottom of the admittedly-short list of His Kid Candidates.

Of course, the second day of the school year, Aizawa is already being cornered by Hizashi, begging for more news of 'his Kidilante' as the moron's nicknamed him. And the brat has picked it up at some point himself. Weirdos.

"Zashi, he's not my anything, let alone my Kidilante." What would normally sounds bored has a warning edge to it, something tense and almost-hurt. The voice hero begins to visibly back off at that.

"Look, Shou, you've literally filled out the adoption forms, all bar his name!"

"Because I don't know it," the underground hero deadpans.

"Well yeh, but-!"

"But nothing Zashi. Leave it." And the blond does, simply falling into step with the shorter man, bumping shoulders occasionally in apology and reassurance. Judging by how Shouta doesn't shove him away, it's appreciated. Somewhere. Somehow. Deep inside. Maybe.

Meanwhile, Izuku is opening up his costume case and already grinning widely. His case is massive, comparatively, and certainly looks the perfect size for the frying-pan-like baton he'd ordered. After all, he had gotten really quite accustomed to using a frying pan now. Well, plus his bo staff that Dadzawa gave to him. There should be one of those, a retractable one, in here as well, he couldn’t risk the weapon getting recognised after all, it was already enough of a gamble choosing the same types of gear, but it was what he was used to. And, as he lifts the lid to his suitcase, matte-black metal is the first thing Izuku sees. Ah yes, he smiles to himself, his pan indeed. Perfect.

Hefting the weapon, no attention being paid to the rest of the support gear yet, Izuku allows his grin to widen even further. It’s well-balanced, not too heavy and appropriately short-handled. Cool. Perfect for bashing people over the back of the head with. Izuku as a hero-in-training is in business.  

(Aizawa is going to have so many headaches and heart-attacks, but that's yet to come.)

Chapter Text

Sitting down in Class 1-A for the first time is actually somewhat nerve-wracking. Izuku is used to operating at night, decked out with weapons and a mask.

But here, in school, even if it is UA, he's just another random kid, and a Quirkless one at that. He has no friends and he has to worry about keeping his identity secret from his Dadzawa, or Eraserdad, as he always calls him on patrol. It's not often he calls the man Dadzawa, not wanting to compromise the man’s civilian identity in public where it could possibly be exploited. No, he is cleverer than that, sneakier than that, and he knows that his favourite pro appreciates the fact. Has tried to cultivate it, encourage it.

Regardless, Izuku is finally in his dream school. He had arrived fairly early this morning, mainly to avoid the crowds of people because no, and was quick to find his class. And then promptly sat in the back corner, right by the windows. If his years of villain-fighting have given him slightly paranoid instincts… well, they serve him well in a fight, so he isn’t complaining, honestly.

Already exhausted, and hoping to avoid the attention of the loud engine boy at the front of the classroom who is loudly admonishing Kaa- Bakugou for having his feet up on the desk, Izuku ducks his face down against his folded arms. He knows he's never fall asleep, but Izuku allows his eyes to close anyway. Always better to be underestimated.

However, only a few minutes later, he is hyperaware again as the desk next to his suddenly became occupied. And he’s going to back to resting when he takes note of who it actually is. The boy from the entrance exam, all wild purple hair and eyebags. Oh, he’s kind of cute.

“Oh, hey, you’re the one who took down the zero pointer, huh? Saved that girl.” And yeh, he had managed to clamber the robot and jam enough of its mechanics to stop it, saving a girl who had fallen. This boy helped him carry her back towards the medical station, what with his own fractured wrist and all.

“Mm, Sh-shinsou, right?” And fuck, he knew he’d be stuttering again. Something about a classroom, about lots of people, just sent him right back to being a complete and utter Deku.

“Yeh. Midoriya?” He nods in reply, signing a ‘yes’ almost unconsciously. Ever since teaching himself Japanese Sign Language, when his nerves really took over, he would fall into a level of muteness, throat tight and heart pounding, where it felt far more natural to sign. He had only ever been ridiculed for it before, but now he's instead staring, wide-eyed as Shinsou suddenly looked delighted. Or, well, those deep purple eyes seemed to brighten and something between a grin and a smirk lightens the deep bags beneath his eyes that reflect Izuku’s.

‘You know sign too?’

‘Y-yeh! I don’t really like talking unless I know someone really well.’

‘Oh worm-’ Izuku snorts at that, surprising himself.

‘At least we can sign to each other,’ the taller continues, looking genuinely pleased. A little cat-like actually, Izuku observes, wondering if it’s related to his Quirk for a moment before concluding that it must just be his mannerisms. There are no other indicators at all, and his traits all suggest an emitter. And now he’s curious. Well, Shinsou hasn't been mean yet, so it's probably worth the risk, right?

‘You don’t have to answer, but what’s your Quirk? I’d assume it was an emitter, but I wasn’t sure…’

“Why do you want to know?” The sudden switch to verbal conversation, not to mention the harsh tone, has Izuku flinching back. Dammit, he really can’t handle anything once he’s in school, can he? Stupid, stupid Deku…

Apparently noticing his distress, Shinsou hesitates before tapping a finger against the greenette’s desk to attract his attention once more,

‘Sorry. I... get a lot of shit for my Quirk. Didn't mean to snap at you.’

‘S-same. Well, kind of.’

‘Oh?’ And there’s nothing demanding to that, nor is it accusatory. It lets Izuku relax a little again. And, well, he might as well get this over with; if he’s going to be bullied or ignored, better to get a head-start on it – optimism at its finest.

‘I’m- I’m Quirkless.’

And there’s a long pause where Shinsou seems to process that, before his hands are moving in a flurry again,

‘That sucks. But you’re here. And… my Quirk is Brainwashing. I know it’s pretty villainous but-’

“N-no!” Izuku yelps out, already flushing, fumbling as he goes to sign his thoughts,
‘That’s such a good Quirk! You can use it to peacefully end fights or retrieve hostages. Could you get information with your Quirk, or does it only work with more direct actions? You could cause dissent amongst groups by getting them to attack or betray each other. If you worked underground-’  Izuku abruptly cuts himself off, flushing more heavily, embarrassed to have been sign-mumbling at one of his new classmates who actually seemed to like him so far.

‘Huh… thanks Mido. You’re the first one to say that. Well, except my foster mums.’

‘What? But, your Quirk is so cool!’  Izuku enthuses again, regaining that little spark of confidence that had him rambling in the first place.

‘Most people don’t think that.’

‘No, I’m sure they don’t. Dumb fuckers.’ And that startles a laugh out of Shinsou.

‘Didn’t expect that from someone so sweet. It’s cool.’  Izuku allows himself to smile shyly in response, the moment broken by a wave of more classmates all arriving in the space of a minute, filling the room with an even greater volume of chatter.

Gradually, the room fills up entirely, as do the seats, the one directly in front of Izuku being taken by a boy about the same height as Shinsou, but his hair is straight, fine and half-red, half-white. Izuku would recognise Endeavour’s son anywhere. He would also recognise the signs of abuse. He’ll have to see if he can’t do something to help the heterochromatic boy.

But, before he could say anything to him, or continue his conversation with Shinsou, the day is rattled open by Aizawa in that god-awful sleeping bag. It takes all of Izuku’s concentration to resist laughing at that, to maintain every facet of his Midoriya side. He can focus on his potential social life later. Once he’s survived this year’s first-day test.

Aizawa sighs, slumping back in his chair, stretching his arms and feeling very much fed-up.

Midoriya Izuku is an enigma.

Okay, so the kid is Quirkless - strike one. His hero costume, judging by the recordings of All Might's lesson, include both a bo staff and a frying pan - strike two. He had fluffy green hair - half a strike.  After all, his kid was probably Quirkless, his weapons of choice were a staff and a frying pan (no, Aizawa still doesn't understand that particular choice) and his fluffy curls have occasionally been a pretty similar shade of green to Midoriya's, from what he's glimpsed under his kid's hood. Although, they've also been orange or blue or purple or black, so that's not a guarantee at all.

Plus, Midoriya stutters, badly. And whilst it isn't a problem, necessarily, it is very unlike his kid. Also, there's a distinct lack of snarkiness and cynicism. Not only that, but, he'd looked absolutely awestruck with every pro hero he met, including Aizawa himself, which is not really his kid's style. His Kidilante would rather roast someone than compliment them. Knowing who Aizawa is and the rest of Midoriya's encyclopaedic trivia is quite a bit like his Kidilante, but it isn't exactly impossible for there to be more than one teenager who is that much of a nerd. And this uncertainty is doing Aizawa's head in.

He wants to know who his kid is.

He wants to be able to take his kid in, make sure he is safe and fed and loved. But without a name, without a solid identity, he can't do that. Hasn't been able to do that in the almost three years they've known each other.

Groaning again, Aizawa sits forward and hit replay. Maybe watching the battle trials one more time will solve something...?

Midoriya and Ururaka were stood outside of the building, muttering over floor plans. On the other half of the split screen, Iida and Bakugou were yelling at each other then split up. Finally, a buzzer went off and, with firm nods to each other, Midoriya and Ururaka headed into the building, the boy leading with a grim expression that immediately seemed at odds with the nervy, bubbly boy that he was in class. Still, grim rarely matched his Kidilante either, so that is yet to be conclusive.

Within a minute, Bakugou came racing around a corner and, seeing the greenette, exploded forward, literally, swinging with a blatant right hook and a scream of what was probably 'DIE!' Honestly, that boy... But it's Midoriya that Aizawa hyper-focuses on, zooming in a little on the kid.

The way he lugged around the no-doubt heavy pan was certainly reminiscent of his kid, but the fear obvious in his eyes was the opposite. His stance wasn't quite the same, but that could be due to slightly different gear and varying weight distribution. His analytical stare was calculated in a way that's distinctly familiar, but his stoic acceptance of the other's ranting immediately contradicted that. Midoriya's movements echoed that of his kid's but there was a clumsiness that was typically caused by inexperience, not that of somebody who had been active for a solid two years minimum. And no matter how good his kid is now, faking that level of inexperience should be impossible, even in the case of his impossible kid.

Why couldn't this be simple? A pleasant, cut-and-dry where Aizawa would meet the eyes of his kid and just know? Ah yes, because this isn't some story, and life is never easy.

Cursing, Aizawa backtracks the few seconds of feed that he'd zoned out on, noting that he really should go to bed soon, but just this last review. Like this, he watches on as Midoriya batted away two exploding fists, caught Bakugou in the gut with the butt of his frying pan, then scarpered to the side, a trail of capture tape dancing behind him that Bakugou failed to notice as he span on the spot to face the greenette once more. Some words were exchanged before the blond charges forward once more, Midoriya dodged again and All Might's voice rang out, declaring Bakugou out.

Whilst the blond boy gaped for a few seconds, Midoriya darted away and was gone by the time Bakugou exploded. And in another minute or so, Midoriya was dashing into the bomb room, distracting Iida for long enough that Uraraka managed to float herself close enough to touch the bomb. And, again, All Might's voice boomed out from the laptop's tinny speaker, declaring it a hero win.

And still, Aizawa is no closer to figuring out if Midoriya Izuku is his kid or not. There's simply far too much conflicting evidence and conjecture. None of it close to conclusive.

The next night, his Kidilante turns up only half an hour along his patrol route.

"Hey Eraserdad!"

"Hey kiddo," he replies, not even flinching when a thin body limpets itself to his back, merely adjusting his stride as he leaps over the rooftops. He hadn't missed the kid approaching. Even when his kid is silent, breathing muffled by his mask, footsteps too light to be heard, Aizawa is aware of him, half of it his instincts and developed situational awareness, the other half just what Mic insists on calling his 'Dad-senses'. And maybe Aizawa tends to outwardly scoff at that, but something deep down and foreign in his chest warms at the thought.

"So what were you up to today? The little hero-lings behaving for you?"

"They're literally your age, brat," he deadpans in return, hoping but knowing he won't trip his kid up. The brat's too clever for that.

"Are they though?" Yep, he knew it - too clever by far.
"And anyway, it's rude not to answer a question. Honestly, you'll give me bad habits; that's not how you teach your kids Eraser!"

"Shut it kiddo. And yeh, they were alright. Teenagers," he jabs, smirking. Flicking his gaze to that fox mask, he can just picture the pout that the kid's making, in fact he can feel it in the sudden increase in weight as his kid slumps even further against him.

"Oi, I'm carrying you out of the goodness of my heart, don't make me drop you," Aizawa threatens, loosening his grip for just a second. His kid only laughs in return.

Dammit, the brat knows he wouldn't. Not anymore. He's gotten too soft, clearly, yet he can't bring himself to particularly care when there are warm breaths puffing through metal against his neck, and a too-small body safe against his back, limbs curling around him. His kid is safe. And for the moment, that's enough.

Still, after they've taken down their second petty villain of the night, Aizawa does try to figure something out.

"Kiddo, you would tell me if you ever needed my help, wouldn't you?"

"Bit out of the blue, Eraserdad! Anyone would think you had a heart." And the kid is laughing, but there's an edge there that Aizawa hasn't heard since... since the cult, or maybe Scorpio. Fuck, that wasn't his intention. But dismissing the matter now would doubtless only make things worse.

"Some of my students have some... grievances with each other. Made me wonder. And, kid, when it comes to you, you should know that I very much have a heart," the latter might be said in an undertone that can only be heard by the vigilante now parkouring beside him, but it doesn't detract from the gruff sincerity there, nor does it stop him snorting when the kid stumbles. And if his hand shoots out to grip a hoodie-clad arm, even when it proves unnecessary, neither comment on it.

"I... I guess I had some minor problems, but they're pretty much gone now. Sorted."

"Hn." The grunt is sceptical, followed by,
"Well, if said 'minor problems' begin to escalate, you can tell me, understood? No more questions asked than needed." And whilst his tone might be stern, the eyes that focus on that silver mask are burning with intent. And sensing that, seeing that, his kid does nod seriously, taking a moment to nudge reassuringly against Aizawa's side. Good. So long as the brat knows that coming to Aizawa is always an option.

"I've got your number," is the light-hearted jibe only a few seconds later.

"Through ill-begotten means, yes. You little hellion."

"Oh hush! No such thing as a crime in my good Christian household!"

"Kid, the fuck?"

"It's a meme!"

"No, it's not. It's meant to be-" he cuts himself off, burying a slight flush in his capture scarf. Dammit, between Hizashi and a school full of teenagers, he knows way more about memes and vines than he's ever wanted to.

"Shut up," he grumbles as his companion cackles maniacally.

A kid this sarcastic and confident surely isn't Midoriya. Surely not.

Aizawa didn't mean to overhear the Symbol of Peace talking to one of his students. Really, he didn't. Well, until he heard something interesting. Then he deliberately decides to linger, but that's not really eavesdropping... No, obviously not...

"Young Midoriya, I believe you have the potential to bear my quirk." And Aizawa can't walk away from that single sentence. Because what the hell? 

"W-what?" 

"Ah, I should probably explain better, huh?" That booming laugh rings out, abruptly interrupted by a hacking, wet cough. Midoriya's single murmur of concern is dismissed, before All Might continues the actual thread of conversation,

"I am the eighth holder of a Quirk that can be passed down. My predecessor, Nana, was a brilliant hero, although she died too young, and she entrusted our power - One For All - to me. I am looking for a successor and was hoping that you, my boy, would wish to take on the mantle of Symbol of Peace. You are a strong lad with a true hero's spirit - and as you are Quirkless, I thought-"

"You thought wrong." And holy shit, there is no stutter there, only confidence, dismissal and distaste. Aizawa wants to applaud the boy. 

"I may be Quirkless, but that means nothing. Or rather, it means that I have worked harder, been faced with more barriers, than anyone else. I refuse to put that aside to merely be given someone else's Quirk, number one hero's or not."

Every word is laced with steel and flames and ice, furious like a storm, unmoving like the earth itself, as unforgiving as hatred, yet it is pure conviction. A promise. Not one out for blood, but bathed it in it all the same - no doubt Midoriya's own blood, past and present. And through it all, he has forged a will stronger than iron. Aizawa nearly shudders to hear it. No teenager should have to sound like that, yet he cannot help but admire the boy for refusing to break or bend, only standing stronger for it.

"Young Midoriya-"

"A-ah, s-s-sorry All Might-sensei! I- I didn't m-mean t-to be rude! I j-just..." The teen trails off, every trace of the confident young adult, the survivor, abruptly gone, leaving behind the anxious, sweet boy who is already so very familiar to them.

"No, no, it's okay my boy!" The Symbol of Peace is quick to reassure, but Aizawa doesn't miss the waver of uncertainty behind the brusque tone,
"You have nothing to apologise for! I was not very tactful! Please though, do consider it. But for now, go and enjoy your lunch! Growing boys need their energy!" And as Midoriya stutters out a goodbye, Aizawa is quick to pace away on silent feet. What a truly fascinating conversation to have overhead. And how very curious that new side to Midoriya is...

Another strike in favour of him being his Kidilante, perhaps. He certainly has the gall for it.

Lying in bed early the next morning, Aizawa is mulling things over. Every new school year is like this, up to a point. But this year he has a far more likely candidate than ever before - Midoriya Izuku.

Maybe he should try and look into the boy's home life? If he has two happy parents and a stable home, then Midoriya probably won't be his kid, unless his parents are neglectful, wildly irresponsible or just plain old blind. But Aizawa would need to convince Nedzu to allow him access to such files.

Well, unless he went through less official  channels. Albeit, the majority of his more dodg- ahem, questionable information sources shouldn't be trusted with information regarding his student nor potentially his Kidilante. So that option's out. Nor does he have the necessary skills to hack UA's databases himself, nor does he truly have the time or inclination to learn anything like a sufficient amount. So, no way to check Midoriya's full file.

For now, it seemed like Aizawa will have to wait. See if Midoriya does anything else to significantly contradict or support the possibility of being his kid. And until then, the hero will simply do what he always does: look after his kid to the best of his abilities.  It is his kid after all.

Chapter Text

It had taken Shinsou all of two days at school and two nights of texting deep into the night to begin calling Midoriya 'Green Bean', or, when they were signing, the 'bean' hand symbol, held over one of the green patches on their blazers.

Maybe it's kind of dumb, but it's the sort of dumb that is both very hilarious and very sweet. And with that, way too cute.

Honestly, Izuku is rapidly realising that he may or may not find both of his friends absolutely adorable; yes, he is determinedly ignoring that fact for now. No time for gay panics.

So anyway, Izuku has already gained a nickname from Shinsou, though he hadn't given one in return yet. Maybe he's a little traumatised, okay? Give him a break. 

And, even better for Izuku, Shinsou isn't his only friend.

Todoroki seems to get along well with both of them as well. All three of them prefer to sign than talk, at least in this early, half-there stage of friendship, and they've already started to habitually eat outside in one of the grassy courtyards together. The cafeteria is too loud and bright and crowded.

Not to mention that Izuku for one definitely feels far more anxious and vulnerable in that massive room full of so many unknowns, where bad things have happened in far too similar an environment. And sitting with his back to a wall would help somewhat but, quite frankly, there are not enough exits from that room. A mass exodus would almost definitely result in some people getting trampled, and that's not even considering the sheer press of bodies and noise as everyone would try to leave... Hah, yeh, no thank you. Izuku does not need that kind of stress.

So, instead, Shinsou and Todoroki join him outside. Or, more accurately, he and Shinsou had non-verbally agreed to go and find somewhere outside to have lunch together on their first full day and, upon noticing Todoroki sat alone under a tree, Izuku had walked up to him, clearly in his sightline and started signing to him.

'Would you mind if S-h-i-n-s-o-u and I sat here too? We'll be signing, not talking.'  

For a long moment the other teen simply stares at the two, scrutinising them both with a dead expression. Then, visibly hesitant, he raises his own hands to sign in reply,

'Why?'

'Everyone needs a friend or two. Particularly when they can't rely on their so-called family.'  And for a second Izuku is so sure that he's fucked up, that he’s gone too far too soon and Todoroki is going to walk away or punch him or something, before the heterochromatic boy simply inclines his head in acquiescence. Izuku can't help but smile brilliantly at the permission.

(He doesn't know it, but that's the moment that his two companions begin to fall for him.

His full smile isn't all sunshine and rainbows. No, it is falling sakura, so very bright and beautiful, yet rare and sad too; it is shadows and endings, even as something so utterly entrancing blooms and blossoms into life; it is the promise of a better day, even when haunted by the knowledge of bad ones. Despite its darker layers, Izuku's smile is not bitter but rather sweet, and that's what draws them in.

Like them, Izuku is a survivor. He is bold and beautiful and broken. He is everything that they've been through and more. Suddenly, in a single second, he becomes the most stunning thing they've ever seen. And they want to continue seeing that. How could they not?)

And so the three eat lunch together.

At the end of the day, they tacitly decide to walk to the train station together, each going their separate ways there, but knowing now that there are two new numbers in their phones that they can call any time, day or night, and hear a voice at the other end. That they now have a group chat where it will be safe to joke and laugh and, if needed, cry. Maybe they don't quite feel secure enough to do so yet, but it won't take long.

Sooner or later, they will trust each other enough to be completely unguarded. But such closeness takes time, so for now they will simply talk and be content with that.

Aizawa is out on patrol, already nearly a week into the new school year, and is accompanied, as usual, by a black and silver shadow.

“Hey kiddo.”

“Hey Eraserdad; guess what?” And for once his tone isn’t pure snark or mischief, not building up into a joke or teasing comment, and that alone makes the hero straighten a little as they lope across the roofs.

“What is it brat? Something good happen?”

“Yep! I’ve made a friend. Two, actually!”

And Aizawa knows that his kid hasn’t had friends for years now, certainly not since he’s known him, and probably not for a long time before that. Bullies? Undoubtedly. But friends? That’s novel and all the more brilliant for it.

“I’m glad to hear that kid. What are they like?” Sue him, he’s curious. Both to know if they’re gonna be good for his kid and just plain old what they’re like. They’d better make his Kidilante happy.

“They’re both kinda quiet but they’re really funny and kind. All three of us are sarcastic, so that’s good. Oh, and they’re both taller than me which- unfair! But whatever, I was expecting it. And T- one of them has a shitty home life. Although I’ve got a plan, so that’s alright-"

“Kid,” Aizawa growls, eyes flashing for a warning moment,
“You better not be getting into trouble.”

“And if I do?” the brat challenges and Aizawa can feel the eyebrow that he’s raising, the half-scowl, half-pout that’s pulling at the kid’s features, even if he can’t see them through the mask.

“Then you’d better fucking contact me, problem child. You have my number on that shitty little phone I gave you. Even if it means me finding out who you are, if you’re in trouble that you can’t get yourself out of, you’d better get me to help you be safe again, understood? Any means necessary. Your safety is my first priority.”

And there’s a long pause as his kid hesitates, digests the outpouring of protective scolding, then nods slowly in reply,

“If I really need to.”

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

With that, they move on with their patrol. But Aizawa will hold the brat to that promise, come hell or high water. He refuses to allow his kid to be hurt, or at least not any more than necessary, particularly if he could have helped but the kid keeps him out of it. In the dark. No, he won’t stand for it. He’s already come close to losing his kid too many times. Hell, once would have been too many.

And, early that morning, when his shift has been over for a solid hour and he is finally relaxing into bed, Aizawa finds himself unable to sleep, his kid’s near-death experiences whirling through his mind. That first time, with the cult, had, in many ways, been the worst. It had been the realisation point, the event that made him realise that he couldn’t lose his kid.

But too many times after that, he had come close. Elisabeta, Scorpio, Shock Therapy... Kami, those three had all been terrifying, the hero could admit.

They’d been tailing the villain for two nights now, the man’s ‘not chitin Eraserdad, it’s got a different molecular make-up’ scorpion tail glinted in the streetlamps and moonlight. Fortunately, the man was fairly unobservant and had yet to notice them, but they didn’t want to take him out until he’d led them to somewhere useful – a store for the weapons that his gang was smuggling, or perhaps some allies of his. Something to give them free information.

And if it took them another night to apprehend him then they could live with that, so long as it helped take out another arms dealer cell.

But apparently they weren’t to be very lucky tonight. Oh, it started well. They had successfully followed him to an abandoned warehouse in one of the old industrial areas of the city. But it was once Scorpio knocked on the door of said warehouse that things began to go south. It was a relatively non-descript man who opened the door to the villain, albeit the gun in his arms belied that appearance. The feathers that were obviously intertwined with his hair complemented his wide, yellow eyes. An owl’s eyes.

And those eyes were more than capable of piercing through the shadows that disguised the vigilante and hero, immediately yelling out an alarm and raising his gun to fire over the shoulder of Scorpio.

Aizawa and his kid scattered, both circling round in opposing directions, eyes meeting for a fraction of a second and agreeing to go in, Aizawa simultaneously pressing his ‘panic button’, then keying in the three extra digits to indicate that he had a vigilante with him. Tsukauchi would be the one to receive the request for back-up and he would know exactly which vigilante to expect.

Course of action determined, the two began to converge on the warehouse from which a small group of villains had poured out. Including Scorpio and the owl guy, there were now five of them, all exhibiting various mutant quirks. Fuck. Still, it wasn’t entirely unsurprising and it’s not like either of them were helpless either.

Accordingly, Aizawa dashed straight in to the fight, trusting his kid to check that the warehouse was clear before joining him. And indeed, within the first five seconds of the pro engaging with the villains, capture scarf throwing two of them into each other, another two had focused on fighting him hand-to-hand.

But they clearly weren’t half as experienced as Aizawa was, or at least not when it came to fighting in tandem, because they kept on catching elbows and feet on each other. Aizawa simply took advantage, deliberately leading them into each other, dodging upwards and backwards to make them crash into the other. Honestly, they were dealing as much damage to each other as they were to him. S till though, they were relentless and had yet to back off, not even giving him a chance to glance over at his kid and make sure he was okay. He trusted the brat to be able to look after himself in a fight, but that didn’t stop him from worrying.

And of course that was when he heard the cry of pain.

Unable to think, barely able to breathe, Aizawa suddenly found himself in a frenzy, taking out his two opponents without restraint or hesitation, no doubt concussing them at the very least, but he didn’t care as he sprinted to where his kid was fighting another two. And already he could see why the brat had screamed out.

The black hoodie had a gaping hole in its side to match the gaping wound in his kid’s abdomen, what was initially a simple but nasty puncture wound had torn at the edges as though the cause had been violently and carelessly yanked out, the wound now leaking blood like a tap. Aizawa didn’t waste time on shouting out, instead he hyper-focused on Scorpio, who was laughing maniacally as he dodged slightly shaky swings of the kid’s bo staff, and jump-kicked him in the face. There was a satisfying crunch of bone and grind of cartilage, felt even through his heavy boots, and Scorpio was down, head cracking on the cement of the ground.

Whipping around, capture weapon poised to strike, Aizawa was relieved to see that his kid had taken out the last attacker, all five of them now down. He’d need to tie them up, but first-

“Kid. Fucking hell, that’s bad. Come on, let’s get you sat down.” And Aizawa helps his kid to sit, breathing heavily, against the side of the building.

“I’m gonna call Recovery Girl, okay? We’ll leave your mask, but you need-“

“Mmkay Dadzawa. Mmkay. Don’ worry-“

“I’ll worry as much I-”

“Don’. No’ worth it. ‘ll be fine.”

“You’d better be. Fucking brat.” And the kid smiles at that, even as his eyes flutter closed. Holy shit, right, he needs to call Recovery Girl now.

Fumbling his phone out of his pocket with blood-soaked fingers, keeping one hand carefully pressed to his kid’s side, blood still welling up beneath the wads of bandage fabric he’s holding there, he selects his third speed-dial.

“What is it? Where do I need to be?” Thank Kami that Recovery Girl is to the point, at least at this time of night.

“Please Chiyo, it’s Warehouse 19, the old industrial district. Tsukauchi should have somebody on the way here already but- it’s the kid, Chiyo. A scorpion Quirk. There’s poison and blood- fuck Chiyo, he’s bleeding so much- please-“ And okay, he’s definitely working himself into hysterics here but this is his kid that’s fucking dying right in front of him and he can’t-

“Okay Shouta, I’m five minutes away. According to the network, one of the police headed your way, ETA one minute, has a minor blood clotting Quirk. She’ll be able to help stabilise him until I’m there, got it? Shouta, I need a verbal response here.” Her familiar, calm logic helps to slow his rushing thoughts and racing heart, as he mutters a brief affirmative to her, sirens already ringing close by.

“I’ll be there soon Shouta. Keep hold of your boy.”

And she’s gone, just as two police vans come screaming towards them. Aizawa barely registers them as people pour out, simply shouting aimlessly,

“Whoever has the blood clotting Quirk, get the fuck over here. I refuse to let Kidilante die today.”

He’s got just enough coherency to not call him ‘his kid’, to keep it professional as Tsukauchi and a vaguely familiar woman in uniform crouch either side of him, her raised hands already glowing with a coral light, and Aizawa resists the urge to growl at her touching his kid but then he clocks that she’s helping, that his kid is bleeding out. And finally, after far too long of feeling his hands getting drenched in the red of his kid’s blood, there is the voice of Recovery Girl at his side as she kisses the brat’s hand.

Immediately, the blood flow lessens to almost nothing, even as poison begins to trickle away, forming a sickly green trail that pools to the floor. Aizawa resists the urge to simply drag the kid into his lap and hold him close.

Instead, he scoops his problem child up and, accompanied by both Tsukauchi and Recovery Girl, heads to his own apartment. The villains have all been restrained and carted away by the police force and all that is left now is to give his report.

So, with Tsukauchi’s acquiescence, they go somewhere safe. There, Aizawa will settle his kid into his own bed, just as he has done before, and spend far too long attempting to scrub the blood and toxins from his hands. It will do no good though. Some days, even now, years later, he can still see that horrifying blend of red-brown and green-black crusting around his calluses and fingernails. It still makes him sick to the stomach.

But then he will go on patrol and Kidilante will meet up with him, limpeting onto his back, or brandishing a frying pan, and he reminds himself that his kid survived. His kid is alive. And for now, that’s enough. It has to be.

And that was only Scorpio. Elisabeta, Shock Therapy and a myriad of other more minor incidences were his kid had gotten hurt. And Kami, how many times his kid had tried to hide his hurts.  

Chapter Text

Somehow, the Elisabeta incident had probably been the least terrifying, or at least in the aftermath it had been. In the moment, however, it had been soul-shattering when the woman had snuck up behind them as Aizawa was handcuffing the last of three unconscious villains and grabbed his kid by the throat, the faint choking sound all that alerted Aizawa as he spun back around, only to see his kid in the grip of another villain. Long, dark brown hair cascaded over the vigilante's shoulders, but it was the fanged smile, wide and unhinged, reminding of a snake about to slacken its jaw to swallow its prey whole, that sent a thrill of protective fear down Aizawa's spine.

"Let him go," he growls, ready to flare his Quirk up, for all the good it will do. Kidilante had mentioned before that her Quirk was a mutant-transformative type, and thus would be largely unaffected by his Erasure. Still though, every little advantage or distraction would be worth it to keep his kid safe.

"Oh no hero, that isn't going to happen. Young, sweet blood is too good to waste. I'll drain him dry," she coos. Aizawa keeps his eyes trained on her, but he still notices how his kid's chest heaves, just once, (and she cackles at that, the sound ringing through the alley like a death knell but grating like nails on chalkboard) before his hand twitches towards his utility belt. And Aizawa won't allow his gaze to follow the movement, so he thinks. For fuck's sake, what's in- A throwing knife. His kid has a throwing knife. Multiple actually. Okay, good, that will help.

"If you let go of him, I can-" Please, let the kid understand his cue.

"Ah-ah, no bargaining darling. I'll take-" Aizawa taps his thigh twice "-whatever I want-!"

Suddenly, the kid is moving, dodging away to one side, bringing up his right hand behind his head, the glint of a knife flashing in the dim light. Aizawa is sending his capture scarf forward, intent on pulling his brat out of danger, but they underestimated the grip of the villainess. His kid is half-away, but she still has one sharp-nailed hand tight around his throat, flexing in pain from the knife buried in it, and another hand clasped on his shoulder. As he tried to escape, she had leant into his movement, face-first, dodging the capture scarf. Her fangs were buried deep in the brat's shoulder.

"Kid-!" But Aizawa can do nothing for a long second as Kidilante thrashes and twists for a second before slackening into the woman's hold. She looks up at the hero's shout, still drinking, golden eyes gleaming. Aizawa can practically feel the oiliness of her smirk and it is that knowledge that sends him rocketing forward, a kick aimed straight for her nose. Elisabeta drops the kid, a single drop of blood tracing from her lips, and the pro is instantaneously torn between catching his kid and pursuing her.

Then he's half-crouched, supporting the too-light weight of his brat.

"Kid, are you..." he trails off at the non-responsive lethargy of the vigilante. There's nothing indicating any kind of awareness. Even at his urgent, insistent tone or touch, the younger doesn't react at all, not even a twitch. And it is only now that Aizawa remembers part of the rumours surrounding Elisabeta, that she is less a vampire and more a vampire bat. Her saliva thus contained an anticoagulant element and apparently even a sort of sedative, though that was theorised to be a mutation. Which was probably why the kid was unresponsive. Ah, fuck. Still, it wasn't an overly serious wound. The kid would survive. Aizawa would just have to watch over him for the night. And that, he could easily do. First things first though, he bandaged over his brat's hoodie and then rang the police and his agency; the alley was still littered with three unconscious thugs after all.

It had been a straight-forward evening so far, nothing unexpected. Aizawa had no ongoing investigations, so tonight's patrol was mainly taking out any small-fry that he came across. There'd been one would-be sexual assault (and Aizawa was always incredibly glad to be in time for those - he'd been there for the aftermath before and he wouldn't wish that upon anyone) and two attempted muggings. By the third incident, Kidilante had dropped in to help the victim gather up their groceries whilst Aizawa finished restraining the villain. Then the two had continued on their way, snarking quietly at each other as they focused most of their attention on the streets below them.

An uproar an alley or three away had them glancing at each other before immediately sprinting and leaping over the few rooftops, taking a moment to assess the situation before each drop-kicking one of the fighting villains. The two men - both vaguely familiar in the way that most mid-rank and relatively-well-known local villains were - had been arguing loudly, Quirks beginning to crackle and smoke respectively when Aizawa and his kid dropped in. Literally.

Fire Fist went down with the single strike to the neck, but Shock Therapy was quicker and Kidilante was lighter.

And so his brat's kick clipped the edge of the villain's neck and, even as he stumbled, the man was able to lash out with his electric whips, two of them digging into Kidilante's thigh. Aizawa could feel his kid gritting his teeth, biting back a scream, even as the vigilante bounced on his feet to land, already striking again, taking out the man's knees, sending him careening back into the alley wall, unconscious as his head cracked against the brick.

"Oi, kid, you alright?" And yet again, Aizawa abandoned protocol of restraining adversaries to bustle (stride, thank you) over to the vigilante and start mother-henning him (checking him over, thank you). Holes were burned through the brat's trousers, the smell of smouldering fabric acrid and that of burnt flesh sickening.

"Y-yeh. No worries Eraserdad."

"Fuck there's not," he retorts, crouching to get a better look at his kid's injuries.

"There's a thing called grammar. Honestly, and to think you're a tea- YOW!" And Aizawa immediately flinched away from where he'd started probing around the wounds.

"Sorry kid. Doubly so; this is gonna need Recovery Girl."

"Fuck," he whines, drawing it out long and low in a pained groan, not enjoying the deep electrical burns at all.

"Language brat."

"English, if you want."   And if it wasn't for being best-friends with Present Mic, Aizawa admittedly probably wouldn't have understood that. He personally would've forgotten all but useful-for-Heroing English the day after their final exams.

"Hush brat. Ring Recovery Girl for me - here. Catch." And Aizawa lets himself chuckle once, short, sharp and still-too-tense, as the kid fumbles with the phone. Not like he could parkour or fight Quirked men thrice his size and twice his age without breaking a sweat, then not even catch something thrown at him. Of course nor. Weird child.

"What if I don't know the passcode?"

"I know you do, you little sneak. Don't be coy." The kid harrumphs, then visibly winces, and Aizawa tightens the handcuffs on Shock Therapy maybe a little too much. Tsukauchi won't blame him. (Actually, they end up commiserating over not getting to punch the bastard. What else are friends for?)

By the time they meet Recovery Girl at Aizawa's apartment, the burns are already at the point that they scab and scar, even with her healing. Still, it means he will only need a day or two of 'no strenuous activity, you hear young man?'. The kid nods along dutifully, but Aizawa can already tell that the kid is plotting. Once he wakes up from his healing-induced nap, Aizawa will make sure to lecture him. Until then, he'll let the kid rest.

The little shit's gone by morning, out the window without a word. As per usual. Brat. But well, at least he doesn't come across Aizawa on his patrols for a whole two days. Maybe the kid really did take a break. Aizawa can hope, at least. He always will.

Chapter Text

The USJ incident is... well, it’s a mess, to be honest.

The villains attack, surprise surprise. Well, let's rewind a bit: Aizawa's kid had been buzzing the previous night, excited for something he wouldn't tell the underground hero about; All Might used up all of his powered-up time merely on the way to school and then the class as a whole was very rowdy all morning, with only small pockets of tranquility (notably, the odd little trio of Todoroki, Shinsou and Midoriya, all talking to each other in sign language. Aizawa had noticed that budding friendship previously, but apparently it had solidified already, to a point).

In conclusion, Eraserhead was already fucking exhausted. 

Then a bunch of villains decide to turn up and fucking attack his batch of new kids. Because what else would they do?

As the black void-fog-portal forms down in the plaza, resulting in a small flood of thugs, plus a couple of ridiculously extra leaders, Aizawa whirls to face them and immediately starts to shout for the kids to get the hell out of there, contact the main school, absolutely whatever they need o get out of this all safe. Somewhat unexpectedly, there's another voice joining his, this one lacking the stutter that he's already come to expect:

"Iida-kun! Go, now, get help - you're the fastest!"

And there's an odd surety, certainty, even command to that voice. It is the tone of someone who is keeping control and who has experience doing so. Experience keeping civilians safe and villains afraid. But no, now's not the time to ponder that, Aizawa tells himself. He's got to try and get any semblance of advantage that he can weasel out of their attackers right now. Even if that means jumping straight into the fray. 

Whilst their teacher - his Dadzawa no no no - is already leaping into battle, Izuku is attempting to corral his classmates into some semblance of a coherent defensive unit.

He's told Iida to go, using that tone that gets civilians who are frozen in fear to flee to safety, the voice that is a sort of soft command and took him a year to get right, and the taller boy escapes through the gates just as they snap shut, catching a bit of his armour with an awful crunching sound. Luckily, it only looks to be his heel, so he might not be injured.

Refocusing on the other eighteen of them, Izuku starts to speak, only to be cut off by more whirling black portals that, even as he jumps away to try and avoid them, catching a hold of Shinsou to try and drag him to safety too, he gets caught up in one of them that forms a good metre above the ground.

Then there's a blur of darkness, a rushing of non-existent wind and he's plunging into water, shockingly cold, losing his grip on Shinsou's indigo jumpsuit, instantly trying to assess his surroundings beyond the cold, dark, water, so much pressure, movement, cold, more movement, a flash of something that's not Shinsou, oh fuck, that's a villain and he pulls his baton, instantaneously going to use the shock then realising that would be a pretty shitty idea, then making do with jabbing it straight forward into something's face, hoping the direct movement wouldn't allow too much resistance to lessen the power of his blow.

It seems to work, somewhat, as he strikes something hard that gives way, then a strong lasso - no, Asui's tongue - is latching around his waist and he's being dragged up and away.

Instead of using Mineta's balls, Izuku and the other two go running through the now-sinking ship, finding some bleach and other ingredients, creating some bombs. Grabbing some extra stuff, he preps some rip-off smoke bombs. He doesn't trust those in his utility belt, what with being submerged for a good minute or two. Still, they could be useful as a feint.

Regardless, they create a few home-made bombs, or ship-made, rather, and then Shinsou yells as loud as he can,

"You lot are pieces of shit, you know that?" And the half a dozen or so replies he gets he quickly orders to swim over to the stern of the ship. They all do so, treading water in a semicircle, and that's when Izuku wraps a firm arm around each of his companion's waists and, in tandem, he and Asui push off simultaneously with Shinsou throwing down the bombs behind them. The concussive force gives them an extra boost, even if it does lessen their control over their own trajectory, and it will at least give those villains that Shinsou had managed to control a headache and more likely a trip to dreamland for the time being.

Their landing is messy, but no bones get broken, only Shinsou's ankle sprained, and that's pretty damn good if you ask Izuku. Then he has to convince them to follow his next plan.

"I'm going down to the plaza. I need you two to circle around the zones, try and collect everyone together. The more of us in one spot, the better. Yes, we'll make a bigger target but with our inexperience, there's safety in numbers. Understood?"

And whilst the two both hesitate, Shinsou looking physically pained at the suggestion, both spend a few too many breaths trying to convince Izuku to come with them, or to let them come with him, he is unrelenting and reminds them that arguing now is just wasting time. At that, they nod, determined now, and immediately set off to find whoever they can. Izuku, with that, takes one massive breath to collect himself, then sprints towards the plaza.

Eraserhead  (DADZAWA, ERASERDAD, DADZAWA, SAVE HIM, his mind chants, screams, sobs, desperate beyond belief) is down there and he will do whatever it takes to save the man. Absolutely anything.

Eraserhead - not Dadzawa, not now, can't give that away, not ever, particularly not in front of villains, keep it secret, keep it zipped - is on the ground, head being shoved further and further against the dirt, blood already beginning to pool. Some pale-arse guy with a metric fuck-tonne of hands is standing by, laughing, only turning to face Izuku when he yells,

"OI HANDJOB! Yeh, YOU, Fuckhands McMike, what the fuck are you trying to do? People are gonna call you a pedo you know, coming in to a kids' lesson like this! And honestly, that's not a good look. So last season."

And dammit, his snarky side needs to be controlled, but he's nervous as fuck so he's defaulting. Defaulting to his vigilante persona. Yeh, not the best idea ever, but it'll do for now. At least it might drag attention away from his Dadz- from Eraserhead.

"You're a brat. Just some NPC!" Weirdo growls, one of his hands, an actually attached one, raising to scratch at the gross flakiness of his neck, already red raw. Izuku would be tempted to dismiss the freak as a mentally-disturbed lowlife if not for the bloody mania in those crimson eyes and the situation as a whole.

So, when the man is busy muttering to himself and scratching frantically, Izuku bursts forward in a flurry of movements. He gets in one solid hit to the abdomen before the pale guy is parrying with his own hands. When he catches the student's arm with a glancing open-handed blow, there's a flash of pain, then wet numbness as a entire patch of his top is gone and some of the skin beneath begins to disintegrate too. Fuck, a five-point-contact disintegration Quirk. Not fun to fight at all.

But still, Izuku keeps on fighting, taking several seconds of damage, barely noticing any of it as he keeps on aiming blow after blow at the man, trying not to panic as the giant monster-villain stays still, Aizawa not getting more hurt, but certainly not in a position to escape, and Izuku's bo staff is getting blown away in the wind, patch by patch, inch by inch.

Then he gets a good blow in, right on the villain's throat and manages to activate the shock feature. The weirdo - "Shigaraki Tomura!" apparently, judging by mist-guy's exclamation - jerks back, limbs spasming a bit, and is whipped away by another damnable black portal. His fading voice echoes in the space in front of Izuku:

"Nomu! Get the green-haired NPC!"

And there is a roar echoing through the plaza, then a mass of darkness is in Izuku's face and he's pummelled backwards by what must have been a massive fist, his breath gone in an instant, a worrying little series of snaps echoing through his chest, his stomach left behind as he flies back to hit a wall.

And, before he can stand up again, the Nomu is already lumbering forwards once more.

However, it is taking its time now, moving slowly, and Izuku levers himself up, leaning heavily on his bo staff, not wanting to trust its compromised structure but, right now, with no other choice. By the time the Nomu is only ten metres away, he is standing without it and holding it in front of him, braced, trying to decide how the fuck he should approach this fight. Well, how to make it a fight instead of a one-sided smack-down.

As such, just as the Nomu is getting within its own range, Izuku darts forward, pushing through his broken ribs and various disintegration wounds, getting within its reach and jamming his bo straight up under its beak-chin-thing, determined to electrocute the thing. And he does.

But it only flinches, jerks, wobbles, before stumbling a little back, leaving Izuku more vulnerable to another attack. Gritting his teeth (he needs to be faster, faster, faster, he needs to be the quickest he's ever been if he wants to escape, survive, make sure his Dad is okay) he takes a not-very-calculated risk and decides to fucking yeet himself forward, forcing his body to jump, managing to stand on the Nomu's arm as it reaches for him, then run the two metres or so in a single swaying step to be atop its shoulder, now bringing his bo down as hard as he can in its grotesque brain, the metal finally splintering apart in his hands before he can electrocute the thing, but it still freezes in place, stuttering to a quick stop. 

And Izuku falls off. 

Landing on the ground, not quite twisting enough to catch himself, definitely does his ribs no favours. Ow, yeh, no, that one's probably just gone through a lung judging by how his breath isn't really coming back. Oh fuck, that hurts, but he really needs to check on Dadzawa, get up, get up, get u-

And with that he blacks out.

Hitoshi and Shouto were at the head of the group that were racing back to the central plaza. Knowing Izuku was there - Kami, it was horrific. And what they arrived to was even worse.

A very battered Izuku, visibly bleeding in places, including his face, was facing that giant monster thing. He had just sent it jerking back when he abruptly runs a few steps then jumps, landing almost impossibly on the thing's arm, taking a single long stride to plunge something - what looks like the remains of his staff - into the thing's exposed brain.

And they would cheer, would celebrate, if they didn't have to continue simply watching in morbid fascination, too far away to help, as he falls back, off of the monster, landing badly, half crouched, half sprawled, and instantly tried to stand once more, something a gross white and red poking out of his side, and was feverishly muttering something before he just faceplanted, eyes closed and expression a grimace. Now, the sheer amount of blood is obvious, his costume in so many tatters, completely gone in some places.

Yet even whilst blacking out, he was visibly reaching forwards, towards... oh Kami, towards Aizawa-sensei, who looks almost as bad.

Shouto is the first to move, sprinting forwards, making a bee-line for their fallen friend. As soon as he moves, Hitoshi is quick to follow, catching up in a few strides as they pelt side by side, desperate to do whatever they can to help. To keep Izuku alive.

First things first, getting him away from the monster, just in case it isn’t truly dead or unconscious or whatever it is. Moving as carefully as possible, Hitoshi helps to get Izuku carefully balanced in Shouto’s arms, not really wanting to move him, but needing to both get him somewhere safer and closer to the entrance for when the ambulances that are surely coming arrive. And, ever so carefully, they pick their way back towards the entrance, Hitoshi ensuring Shouto won’t trip or be at any risk of dropping their friend, even as he monitors said greenette, keeping an eye on the various bleeds and that rib. He doesn’t know what he’d do if they did look to get worse, but he would do something. Anything.

Finally, they come to a stop near the doors.

“Should I set him down?” Shouto murmurs, eyes conflicted, a deep scowl marring his pretty features. Hitoshi can only stay neutral, choosing to nod and help him as they get Izuku into what seems like the best possible position on the ground, his head pillowed on the insomniac’s lap, both of the teens carefully ignoring how much blood was still going everywhere.

“You two! I have some bandages and other medical kit, does Mido- Oh Kami,” Yaoyorozu’s offer of help ends in a horrified gasp that attracts several more of their classmate’s attention. Immediately, several of them are crowding closer, a few sobbing, at the awful sight of Izuku bleeding out and pale as snow. If they’d thought Aizawa-sensei was bad…

“Those bandages would be appreciated,” Shouto manages to speak up, interrupting that anguished silence, seemingly blank, despite the deep red stains that have darkened his jumpsuit. That are now doing the same to Hitoshi's.

Forunately, Yaomomo is quick to start creating strips of white, sterile cloth and she works with Shouto to carefully apply pressure to the worst of the wounds, although they honestly don’t know what to do with the rib. They had gone to apply pressure around the protruding bone, but Izuku had started to shift and whimper and, sharing a glance, they tacitly decided to leave it for now. It really wasn’t bleeding much.

The actual problem was how Izuku barely seemed to be breathing, or rather that his breaths were shallow and seemed… wet? There was a horrible bubbling, rasping noise with every breath he took, each quieter than the last, and, glancing down the length of Izuku’s body, trying to assess what they might have missed, Shouto abruptly noticed that his fingers were turning a little blue. Just as he was about to panic, the sound of sirens began to wail in through the entrance.

And, just as they all started to turn to the doors, All Might came bursting in, his mouth open to bellow out an ‘I’m here!’, but he stops short at the sight that meets him. Aizawa, Thirteen and Midoriya all prone, heavily injured, attended to by various members of the class; the rest of them were huddled together. Nobody was without cuts and bruises.

“Hello children,” his voice is gentle, yet it carried confidently through the plaza. One of the girls started crying loudly.

“It’s alright now, we’re here.” And indeed, just as he says that, there is a rush of several more teachers – heroes – arriving, closely followed by a wave of policemen and paramedics. The class begin to relax. They were safe now after all.

Izuku wakes up, apparently, who knows how many hours later, in a hospital bed. He's aching and is covered in bandages, but he's alive and he has priorities. Accordingly, Izuku does something dumb. He disconnects himself from all of the annoying machines, turning them all off first to keeps them quiet, then opens his room window to case the area. Ah, Musutafu General Hospital, the... the hero ward? Well duh, because he's a UA student, he chides himself. That makes sense.

Turning back to his room, he takes a moment to locate the cupboard that doubtless holds his- yep. His bag and school clothes are all in there. Digging to the very bottom of said bag, wrapped up in a spare blazer, is his Vigilante kit - a simple black hoodie, albeit with extra Kevlar-woven padding from a grateful victim that he kept in loose contact with and a pair of black leggings. Plus his emergency utility belt (it doesn't hold half as much as his standard one, hero or vigilante, but it's enough in a punch). Quickly changing, he then turns back to the window. If he's already in the hero ward, then Dadzawa will doubtless be around somewhere.

Now, he just needs to find him.

After the USJ, the second night of Aizawa being holed up in the same hospital room, he has a late-night visitor. He's woken up from a light, drug-induced doze at his window being slid open and a young voice muttering something about how hero wards need better security, how an underground hero needs looking after better, if a quirkless vigilante can get in, then who else could get in? any villain with a brain could, that's for su-

"Hey kiddo," he croaks, bandages itchy against his skin.

"Hey Dadzawa!" And everything that cheery tone is utterly fake. Aizawa struggles to sit up some, glad for his kid pressing the button that helps to raise the head of his bed.

As soon as he's halfway upright enough, Aizawa immediately lifts his casted arms up into the air.

"C'mere kiddo. Come here," he coaxes, talking low and smooth like he does with his stray cats. He hasn't even finished before there's a warm, shuddering body pressed carefully into his, arms - such thin arms, despite the muscle - wrapped tightly but cautiously around his middle. Aizawa brings his casts gently against the brat's back, pressing him close, cursing the fact that he can't actually hold the kid, cradle his kid, like he wants to. Particularly when the kid's rambling habit is showing, a litany of murmurs of 'I thought I lost you' and 'I need you Dadzawa' and 'please, you can't do that again; you scared me so much'.

They fall asleep like that, leaning into each other, so careful of hurting each other yet needing to know that they're there and safe and alive.

When Aizawa and Izuku woke up the next morning, sleeping in the man's hospital room, neither comfortable or pain-free but too glad to see each other alive for it to matter, one of the first things the underground hero said was:

"I'm glad you're alive kiddo. I heard you yelling at Shigaraki. Dumb move, but thank you. Just learn to value yourself more, okay brat?"

And whilst Izuku temporarily flinches because fuck, fuck, Dadzawa knows who he is he forces himself to calm down after a second, carefully shifting to sit on the edge of his pseudo-father's bed instead of slumping against him in a way that was doing neither of them any favours.

"I'm sorry I never said-"

"Don't mention it kiddo. Just know that I'm adopting you now." And after a couple of silent, stony seconds, both of them snorted and tactfully ignored the way that Izuku's eyes are leaking like a faucet, and his shoulders are hitching with barely-there sobs.

"Y-yeh, alright. That might be fun."

"Heroics isn't a game. I'll expel whoever comes last," Aizawa returns, harking back to his first meeting with his kid's real identity. Said kid laughs again, less sob and more giggle this time, and the man counts it as a victory.

Neither of their injuries are as severe as they probably should have been - Izuku is left with several scars. A patch of his cheek, curving down his jaw and just under his ear is left weirdly puckered and pink; a total of three similar areas decorate his arms and a final patch, larger than the rest, marrs his collarbone and shoulder. His lung and ribs were set and partially-healed by Recovery Girl with the only true consequences being some fragility for a while. But, after a few months, they should be pretty much as strong as ever.

As such, he's being pulled out of Hero Training for a while, but Dadzawa just tells him to use the opportunity to focus on analysis - if it's to Nedzu's satisfaction, he'll receive full credits for the time being. Izuku grins ferally at that, eyes glittering with something that would send a chill down the spine of anyone but Eraserhead or Nedzu. Luckily, they're the only ones in the room to see it.

Aizawa's arms are still broken quite badly, but Recovery Girl can heal them more as his face never got that second bit of serious trauma from being smashed post-saving Asui. In other words, his orbital floor never got shattered and his Quirk isn't affected. He does have a few scars down one arm from the particularly bad break were it pierced right through his skin, but otherwise he escapes fairly unscathed in the long term. He needs a lot of therapy to stop blaming himself for Izuku's scars though. They both do, to be honest. Fuck it, the whole class needs therapy, both together and individually.

But for now, Aizawa will just hold his kid close.

Chapter Text

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The simultaneous transition from teacher-and-student and mentor/dad/friend-and-his kid was both an easy and difficult one.

Aizawa and Izuku cared about each other. That was the simplest thing to either of them. They knew how the other moved, spoke and walked; fought, thought and breathed. And, whether they were walking down a corridor together or sat next to each other on a rooftop, these things hadn't changed. The familiarity was comforting. Particularly for Izuku as he went through quite a lot of upheaval.

First, there was actually healing up from the USJ incident. Fortunately, between the Quirks of various hospital staff and later, once they were more rested, Recovery Girl's Quirk, it only took three days for Aizawa to get discharged. For Izuku, it was an additional two.

Still, both were fairly mummified - well, Aizawa had one cast remaining, unfortunately for his dominant hand, and still possessed a good number of other bandages, half for support, half to actually ensure wounds stayed clean and closed. Meanwhile, Izuku's ribs were heavily bandaged, his movements visibly rigid with them, and two of his fingers remained splinted. He had declined to have any coverings for his new scars, genuinely not seeming to care about their blotchy marring of his skin; in his own words 'they're just more proof that I've protected people, and I've never really bothered covering others up before, so why should I now?'.

It didn't stop Aizawa from flinching the first time that he saw that warped handprint stretching across his kid's cheek.

In the two days between their two different discharge dates, with the adoption papers sent off via Nedzu, who was going to expedite the process as much as he possibly could, Aizawa enlisted, somewhat reluctantly, Present Mic's and Midnight's help to get furniture in for his kid. His office/storage/spare room may or may not have been cleared out for well over a year now, and it was simply a matter of buying and building the necessities. Izuku had assured him that everything he would want from the 'group home' would be miscellaneous and small. Books and clothes, primarily.

In other words, the place was probably absolute shit and most of Izuku's precious things were from 'before', when his mum was still alive. Regardless, Aizawa didn't say as such, simply focusing on what he could do for his kid now. And at the very moment, it meant surviving a shopping trip with his two idiot best friends.

Whilst Dadzawa was shopping, Izuku was stuck in the hospital and decidedly unimpressed with that. Well, until Shinsou and Todoroki texted him in their little group chat, asking if he was alright.

Izuku: [Yeh, just bored. What are you two up to?]

Shinsou: [Wondering if we could visit you, honestly. Whaddya think, green bean?] And, without his consent, Izuku's cheeks flared red at reading those words. Having friends was still a novel experience, particularly those who were as good to him as Shinsou and Todoroki.

Izuku: [I... I don't see why not? Maybe I should ask a nurse? 'cause I may or may not be in the hero ward, so...?]

Shinsou: [Ooh, look at you Mr. Fancy Schmancy.]

Todoroki: [It'll be fine. My sister's had to visit my donor there before.]

Izuku: [Sh-Shinsou! I'm not! And if you're sure Todoroki. Only if you're both really not too busy! I'm alright either way!]

There's something about these two that makes his 'Izuku' side just a bit more real and definitely a lot more flustered. Maybe one day soon he'll be comfortable enough to be his full self with them... Yeh, that would be nice...

He's pulled out of his thoughts by two simultaneous texts, one from the contact labelled 'Dadzawa', the other from their group chat. For a short second, he lingers over the group chat, then decides that Dadzawa's is more likely to be a problem. Oh, or not. And really, he doesn't care about dark wood versus lighter woods? What does wood have to do with anything? Frowning in confusion, he sends back a snarky reply as such, then switches back over to the chat.

Todoroki: [Of course we're not too busy. Not for you.]

Shinsou: [Todo's right. We'll be over in about twenty minutes, kay? Just let us know your room number.]  Izuku's blush is yet to fade as he sends them the number and they log off to catch their respective trains. Having friends and a Dad... it's more than he's expected or even dared to hope for in a long time, honestly. He's not quite sure what to do with himself.

And indeed, half an hour later, there comes a single knock on his door before two boys are coming in, both looking unusually antsy. Worried. But they both sag in visible relief upon seeing him grin sheepishly at them, and come forward into the room. If they're standing a little closer to each other than propriety demands, none of the trio are going to say anything about it.

'Hey Mido. Alright with touch?' Shinsou signs to him. Izuku is quick to nod and raise his arms, inviting a hug.

Both of the taller teens immediately dive into him, careful of his injuries but eager to be close all the same. Seeing his bruised, bloody body, unconscious and barely breathing, being carted ahead of their teacher's... It had been nightmare-fuelling to say the least.

"We're so glad you're okay," Shinsou murmurs against his curly hair, feeling Todoroki nodding in agreement with him. Izuku only clutches their shirts a little tighter. Finally, once their backs begin to twinge with the awkward position, the three shift to settle with Izuku sat against the headboard and his two friends perching either side of him, forming a perfect little triangle.

"I'm sorry I scared you both. But I couldn't let Da- Aizawa-sensei get even more hurt."

"You're forgiven," Todoroki starts, only to be followed closely by Shinsou's,

"So long as you let us call you Izuku. And you call us Hitoshi and Shouto. Got it green bean?" For a long, agonising moment, Izuku doesn't react, and the two worry that they've overstepped their bounds, but then his eyes widen and sparkle, and a cheeky grin sets his cheeks to bursting, little freckles dotting the adorable roundness.

"Okay Toshi, Shou!" Shinsou is immediately sputtering, struggling to survive the onslaught of sheer cuteness, whilst Todoroki goes stone-faced, a few flames dancing along his eyebrow. The greenette can only laugh, feeling more like himself by the second, less Midoriya and more Izuku. He loves his friends, he really, truly does.

Aizawa hates his two idiot friends. He truly, utterly despises them. What did he do to deserve these monsters? Why couldn't they just listen to him? He was the one whose kid they were shopping for, he was the one who knew that the kid was practical and level-headed with a penchant for black, silver and gold, with the odd splash of All Might (yes, that was a colour, fuckin sue him) and green; he was the one with the fucking instructions for the furniture they were meant to be building!

"RIGHT," he yells, smirking as they both jump horribly, Midnight bashing her head on part of a supposed bed frame,

"Either you two start being productive or I start ringing Ectoplasm to help instead." At the immediate whinging and faux-snivelling, he raises his non-bandaged hand,

"I've waited to adopt this kid for two fucking years. I wanted to build this shit for him, but I can't, if you'd forgotten, so either you help me or you get the fuck out." And okay, maybe that was both harsh and a bit of a guilt trip, but none of it was a lie.

And it certainly got the two to sit up and actually look repentant. Mic has a suspicious sheen to his eyes.

"Look Shouta, we're sorry. It's just-"

"You're excited, yeh, I know. So get on with it. Put that energy into something useful." And if his tone has softened now, well, sue him twice. They are his best friends after all.

It takes a week for the adoption paperwork to go through.

It probably would have taken far longer, but as Izuku was already in one of those ghastly group homes that was clearly absolute shit and Aizawa was already approved as both safe to look after children (he's a teacher after all) and has an emergency fostering license in the case that some kid needs protecting from villains temporarily (although he's only used that twice in his career) Izuku was moving in the Saturday after they're both released, having had a whole week off school to recover further and iron out any additional details. And to finally get all of his furniture built and in place.

Finally, after almost three years of knowing this kid, Aizawa is finally bringing him home. To their apartment.

As soon as they’re in the door, Kimchi is racing towards them, closely followed by Cadaver and Caitlin. Izuku is visibly ecstatic to see the cats that he’s only heard about briefly before, always trapped in another room, and is quick to stiffly kneel in the entranceway, letting them wind around him and rub their faces against his legs and hands. Curiously, they seem to studiously avoid his torso. Whether they can smell the antiseptics and don’t like it, or if they are simply that perceptive, Aizawa isn’t sure, but he’s glad for it all the same. It makes things a little easier.

He spends a minute telling the kid which cat is which, promising to tell him the full stories of their names and adoptions later, then ushers the kid further into the apartment.

“Kitchen, help yourself to whatever, whenever, so long as you don’t spoil your appetite for meals, got it kiddo?” He receives a nod and goes on, meandering deeper into the apartment.

“Living room. Just try not to sit on Kimchi, she likes to hide behind the cushions of the sofa. The bathroom is this one here,” he gestures to the first door on the left of the little hallway at one end of the living space,

“My room’s the one after it. You can come in whenever, just knock if it’s closed. And this is your room here. We haven’t picked your stuff up yet, but we did grab you some new clothes quick whilst we were getting furniture. I tried to control them. Oh, and your school bag is in here too,” Aizawa explains, as he opens the final door.

“Aw, Dadzawa, you care-” The kid’s snark is cut off by an abrupt silence. Concerned, Aizawa immediately spins to face him once more. The fuck? Aw shit, his kidilante’s crying…

“C’mere kiddo, come on, hush now, what is it?”

“S’nothing, ‘m being dumb,” the words are muffled against the hero’s top, but he still hears them, clear as day. And as he brings his good arm up to carefully cradle the kid close, he settles his chin atop that curly hair, hoping that the way it warps his voice when he next speaks up will get the kid to at least crack a smile,

“Nah kid, you aren’t dumb. Kaminari or Ashido on the other hand? Debatable.”

And he’s relieved when that does prompt a wet snort, although Izuku is still sniffling into his chest.

“Come on now kiddo, what is it? You know I’ll take it seriously.” And it takes a solid minute, but eventually the words come,

“It’s just… ‘s been a long time since I had my own room. ‘s fucking weird,” Izuku huffs and Aizawa snorts too. He doesn’t want to think about the shit his kid’s been putting up with; it can wait for another day.

“I think we’re good for a bit of weird, don’t you? Our speciality even.” Izuku pulls back from the embrace, smirking, and Aizawa lets him.

He also tactfully averts his eyes as the brat wipes at his wet cheeks, instead curling an arm around his shoulders, tucking him into his side so that they’re subtly leaning on each other, and points out various bits and bobs. Regales the kid with tales of his friends’ idiocy from the shopping trip and “dear God kiddo, it was agony watching them trying to put furniture together. How can Mic hold three jobs but not use a drill?”

“Too busy being gay?”

“Probably.” And Aizawa pauses for a long, long moment, face going completely blank.

“Oi, Dadzawa, anyone home?”

“Holy shit,” he breathes,
“You’re not a pan, you are pan. You brat.”

“Took you long enough!” said brat laughs, but the tension in his shoulders is wayyyy to obvious. Fuck.

“Hey kiddo, you know that’s fine, right?”

“Um, yeh?” But the lack of snark makes the true answer to that all too blatant.

“Right, sit,” Aizawa orders, pointing to the bed, knowing his words are too harsh and forcing himself to keep his gaze as soft as possible to keep the kid from panicking. As it is, Izuku is putting on a brave front, but a trained underground hero would have to be blind to miss the trembling to his fingers.

“Kiddo. Izuku. Brat. In this house, you can be whatever the fuck you need to be, understood? Whoever you are. I’m asexual, one of my best friend’s is very, very gay. I know that more than one of your classmates is non-hetero. One isn’t cis either. If anyone says that you’re wrong, or evil or whatever, you have my full permission to deck’em. Understood? Any of you can be whatever you feel you should be. I will accept no less.”

“Thanks Dadzawa.” And his tone is unusually subdued, but it is sincere and strong all the same, so Aizawa lets the matter go for now.

“You got it kid. Come to me if you ever need anything. I’ll help, no questions asked. Same as always. Now, what do want for lunch? I’ve regretfully been told I can’t just feed you juice pouches.” His kid laughs again at that and Aizawa knows that this adoption will work out. Izuku, Kidilante – this kid’s been his son for two years already, no way he'll let it go to shit now.

Chapter Text

Whilst dragging in Izuku's two small boxes of belongings from the group home - yes, Aizawa had been thoroughly pissed to discover that his kid only had around twenty notebooks, some stationery, some school supplies and other books, a couple of photos and three sets of ratty clothing to his name - Nedzu had popped around to the apartment. Ostensibly, it was to ensure that they were wanting for nothing. In reality, Aizawa held no doubt that the principal was scheming again. Fucking rat bastard never changed.

Just as they were reaching the stairs of the apartment complex, with Mic having driven them, although he had to get straight to his radio station, Nedzu had popped up out of a bush of all things, immediately making Izuku stumble back a pace, dropping his boxes in favour of adopting a fighting stance, while Aizawa's capture weapon whipped through the air for a moment before being almost instantaneously retracted again. Fucking rat.

"Nedzu. What are you doing here?"

"Nothing much Aizawa-kun! Just thought I'd pop by and see how you and Izuku-kun were getting on, what with him moving in and all!" God, he was far too cheery. It should be illegal - particularly when it often meant that something illegal was actually going to occur soon - or immoral at least. 

"O-oh, Principal N-nedzu!" Izuku stuttered, looking somewhere between delighted and wary and wow, Aizawa was going to have to get used to how his kid acted around other people. Particularly those he didn't trust or know well, apparently.

"Nothing to worry about, Izuku-kun! Just doing my job as a dedicated principal! Particularly as it concerns one of my precious teachers and a child he has been worrying over for around three years now - it is a lovely story, is it not?"

"A-ah, yeh." By now Izuku was crouched, fumbling to pick up his dropped things, the top box having spilled its contents - notebooks and school stuff - onto the pavement. And, just as the teenager was picking one of said notebooks up, he suddenly froze as a white blur appeared in front of him, snatching up one of the pads and skimming through it at a frankly ridiculous rate. Then Nedzu threw his head back and cackled. It was the laugh of a mad man granted redemption, of a cliché evil overlord presented with his enemies, gagged and bound. It was malicious and utterly delighted. 

Aizawa resisted the urge to grab his brat and run.

"Holy shit, Dadzawa, have I broken him?" Well, at least Izuku was acting more like himself again. Must have been the shock.

"No. He does this sometimes. Don't think I've seen it be this bad in a while though. What the fuck is that notebook to cause this?" Nedzu was still cackling. For now, the two were trying to ignore it, just staring at each other with the most incredibly relatable dead expressions.

"Oh- it's just some analysis. That one's pretty old, so it's honestly comparatively shitty."

"What, like your villain analyses?" Those half-mumbled ramblings had always impressed the underground hero, in fact, they were half the reason that he'd originally been so interested in the vigilante. He'd wanted to knwo where the information came from. Turned out, the kid was just incredibly intelligent.

"Yeh? But mainly heroes, I guess. You're in one of them. So's Nedzu. Those ones are in code though; they're more recent."

"Well fuck, kid. I knew I shouldn't let him at you. He's going to want to corrupt- teach. He's going to want to teach you now. You'll get even more chaotic." And fucking hell, he should have known better than to say that because now Izuku's eyes had a menacing gleam that only meant one thing: trouble. A metric fuck tonne of trouble. Such a problem child.

Half an hour later, the three were sat at the bar in the kitchen (well, Nedzu was stood on top of the bar, but let's ignore that) with twenty notebooks piled in front of them. One stack of twelve was to the left, pushed slightly further back. A further eight, looking distinctly less battered and with more recent dates on the corners, were pulled towards them, as yet unopened.

"So- uhm, these are my analysis notebooks. The better stuff, the more recent stuff, is all in a code I created because I realised that as I improved, what I wrote was more of a potential security risk to the heroes I was analysing."

"Good decision on that kid," Aizawa offers, knowing he hadn't said so earlier,
"So, do you mind if we look through them?"

"Well, it might be fun to see if you can decode it yourself," the kid smirks. And yep, that's his Kidilante. Soft bark, all the bite. Fucking brat.

"Where's my entry?" Aizawa asked, already reaching for the pile. If the kid was gonna challenge him then he was gonna meet that challenge. He wouldn't lose to some upstart vigilante, even if he was his son. And, before he could go spiralling into 'Jesus Christ his son', Aizawa takes the indicated notebook, number thirteen, off the top of the pile, flipping through to find a sketch that was an uncanny representation of him half-way through a fight, judging by the kick he was doling out, hair raised, goggles on, capture scarf whirling around him. The picture is brilliant, very accurate, both anatomically and stylistically, and he would be fixated on its incredible detail if not for the long lines of symbols and kanji cramped along the page, line after line with barely any room left for bullet points. Even his hero name is encrypted. But at least that should give him a good starting point for translation...

Idly, Aizawa registers his kid and Nedzu exchanging a few sentences, but his focus is fixated on the page in front of him. It would be easier if the number of characters matched the number of actual characters in his hero name... Perhaps the arrow is an 'a', but then that would make the 'ni' represent 'er' which doesn't sit right...

Aizawa growls in frustration when, after far too long yet not quite long enough, Nedzu straightens and crows victoriously,

"Got it!"

"Fuuuuuck," Aizawa groans, leaning back to pinch the bridge of his nose. If he'd had longer-

"No worries Dadzawa, I'm sure you'll do better next time," Izuku sing-songs. Brat. 

"I must say Izuku-kun, these are very impressive. I wonder if you'd like to have some lessons in tactics, analysis and the like? I'm sure we could find somewhere to add it into your timetable!" The both of them are grinning at each other, positively feral, and Aizawa feels the need to run fast and run far. God, why did he ever let these two meet? Oh yeh, it hadn't been his decision; should've known they'd manage it somehow, sooner or later. God truly hated him after all.

-------------------------

Aizawa cursed to himself, bolting out of his bed and practically flying into his kid's new room, capture scarf half-round his neck, half-trailing in his haste. It was dark, surely around 2 in the morning, and Izuku was screaming.

"Kid!" he yelled as he slammed the bedroom door open. He was too panicked to even worry about possibly startling the teenager, hyper-focused on helping his kid. But nothing changed with his shout and now he could see the thrashing and twisting of a small body, trapped beneath sweat-soaked blankets, screams ceaseless and raw. Fucking hell.

"Kiddo, hey, wake up brat, you're fine, we're safe, come on kiddo," he forced his tone into something soft and calm, even as he hurried to kneel at Izuku's bedside. Seeing that his words were doing little, at least in the immediate, he reached forwards to tangle his hand in the green curls, wincing at the sweat tangling them, but still carding his fingers through the locks, keeping up his soothing words all the while. After a minute or so of this, and the kid slowly but surely calming down, he's struck by a moment of inspiration. A little awkward with only one hand, he unravels his capture scarf from around his neck and, bundling it up into a little lopsided parcel, settles it in the crook of Izuku's shoulder, wanting it to be close but not anywhere that could feel choking, even if it was light. And, hopefully, the scent and texture of the thing would also help. Fortunately for Aizawa's continued sanity, it seems to be the best thing he could have done as his kid instantly turns somewhat to bury his face in the material, a sigh of relief escaping even in his sleep. Letting out his own sigh, Aizawa slumps against the edge of the mattress, one hand still carefully locked in his kid's curls, fingertips pressing heedlessly against the sweaty scalp, just glad to be able to feel that his kid was alright.

Fucking hell, his kid. Finally.

And with that thought, his heart warm even as his panic is still dying down, Aizawa slips back into a doze of his own, draped against his kid's bed.

(They wake up twice more that night, and eventually Aizawa ends up on the bed, half-propped up against the headboard, Izuku curled up against his side, clutching his capture weapon in a tight grip. It's not great, but it works, they're there for each other. And that's enough for them.)

-------------------

Within the first ten minutes of lunch break, later that day, the teachers were tiptoeing around Aizawa in his sleeping bag, taking up one of the faculty room's sofas. But he wasn't alone. Laying chest to chest with the teacher was Midoriya Izuku, tufts of green hair brushing against stubble, hands entangled in a capture scarf, clinging on for dear life, both kept warm and safe by the atrocious sleeping bag that was zipped up around them. Judging by the pattern of the lumps, Aizawa had one arm cradling against the kid's back, the other subconsciously tracing back-and-forth patterns against the nape of his neck, not quite reaching the base of the green curls. Both had the faintest of smiles on their tired faces. It was adorable. (Hizashi had already taken a few dozen pictures - can you blame him?)

Of course, it couldn't last forever. Not even quarter of an hour into the lunch break, two of the 1-A kids come knocking on the faculty room door. And, upon walking in, looking about, both looking slightly flushed and panicked, they instantly relax at seeing a head of curly green hair.

"Thank fuck," Shinsou murmurs, and the teachers carefully pretend not to have heard that.

"You little listeners alright?" Mic asks. If his voice is considerably quieter than usual, nobody's going to comment on that either.

"Uh, yes thanks Sensei. We were just looking for Izu- Midoriya. But, uh, I guess we found him?" Todoroki, still silent, nods along to Shinsou's explanation. 

"No worries. He and Shouta are just napping. I don't think they slept well last night."

"No, they didn't," Shinsou concurs, both of the teens frowning intensely. It's kind of cute. Also, kind of sad. The little listeners shouldn't need to be worrying over each other like this, adorable as it may be.

"Don't worry! He's got the best dad looking after him, little Midoriya will be alright!"

"Mic!" Midinght immediately scolds, reaching over to bat him across the head. Wha-? Oh shit, yeh, he wasn't meant to say anything about that, was he? Although they were cuddling on the sofa together, so maybe...?

"Ah, Midnight-sensei, we already knew," Shinsou offers, saving Present Mic from a horrible fate. Thank God for good little listeners.

"Izu- Midoriya told us. We were worried about him, so he checked with Aizawa-sensei before telling us about the whole adoption thing. His group home was shi- rubbish." Oh, so they probably didn't know about the vigilante thing. But they did know about the actual adoption. Okay, cool, Mic could remember that.

"Yep, but it's fine now! Shouta loves that kid, so he'll be A-Okay. Dadzawa will prevail!" And whoops, he should not have said that so loud, because he could already feel the furious glare hyper-focused on the back of his head.

"A-ah, Shou. Um- Please don't kill me?" He doesn't even dare turn around and face the angry yellow caterpillar that he knows is ready to murder him.

"For fuck's sake 'Zashi. Stop ruining my reputation or I will murder you, got it? Now let me and the kid sleep. Because I swear to God, if you wake him up I will gut you. I would now, actually, but he's asleep on me. Make sure he stays that way." And with that he's already dropping off again, but Present Mic is still frozen, sweating, in his seat. After a few seconds, Midnight and the rest of the teachers are all laughing, trying to keep their giggles and chuckles quiet, whilst both of the students stare, half in shock, before joining in on the sniggering. Present Mic just groans and lets his head slam onto his desk. He always does this.

-----------------

Until now, Izuku had always changed in the bathroom stalls at school. Now however, several weeks into the school year and having survived the USJ together, Izuku found himself comfortable enough around his friends to change in the main area, trusting that they wouldn’t press if he asked them not to. Still though, he deliberately chose the far corner of the room, where the light was dimmest and it was less populated, to change as quickly as possible. Just because he could risk it didn’t mean that he was going to be flaunting himself around. He had a lot of scars after all. And, whilst there were very few that he was actually bothered about, he knew enough about psychology to understand that his classmates would not feel the same way about them. So, he was subtle.

That didn’t stop his best friends noticing.

As he shucked his shirt to the bench and began to pull on his costume’s under-vest, Izuku distinctly heard Shinsou gasp and Todoroki drop something – a boot perhaps?

‘What?’ he signs, once the thin Kevlar vest and hoodie are settled. His two friends are frowning at him, looking constipated and conflicted respectively. It’s Shinsou who first signs back,

‘You have a lot of scars Green Bean. Are you- Can-’ he pauses, runs a hand through his wild hair, then
returns to signing,
‘Is whoever caused them gone now? Are you safe?’ And that’s something Izuku can answer honestly without hesitation. Well, the first half is.

‘Yeh. They’re not a danger now.’ And that’s true, because all of the night-to-night villains, except the other USJ leaders, are in custody, and Kaachan wouldn’t dare to go that far again. Not after the Battle Trial. Or with teachers like Dadzawa, Midnight and Present Mic around, who have made it pretty clear that they will take none of Bakugou's shit. And well, both of his friends level him with sceptical looks, but that doesn’t matter. He knows that they won’t be too pushy or insistent, not if he starts to get upset, and certainly not in the very public changing rooms. They know better than that and he couldn’t wish for better friends, he really couldn’t.

‘Alright,’ and it is Todoroki signing now,
‘We’ll trust you. But you can tell us anything that you might need or want to.’ Izuku flashes them  both a smile at that, chest warm and fluttery, before they all return to changing. They’ve got a class to get to after all.

It is that afternoon, when they are huddled together in the corner of a cat café, a solid dozen cats sprawled across and against them, shoulders touching and Izuku’s feet tapping against the other two’s ankles when they bring it up again. Here, somewhere warm and quiet, with a soft, private atmosphere, they dare to speak aloud what they would usually sign or text.

“Are the starbursts on your back from Baka-gou?” Izuku nods a little, stuttering out,

“Y-yeh. B-b-but Dadzawa p-put him on p-prob-bation if he goes t-too far ag-again s-s-so it’s okay now.”

“Is it really?” Shinsou’s voice has sharpened, cutting like a knife yet there’s an undertone that’s even gentler than how he reverently strokes the cat in his lap. Izuku can’t bring himself to flinch at the harshness when in truth it’s so very caring.

“It is.” And Izuku allows some of his true strength, his true conviction, to bleed into his own words. To their credit, neither of the two startle at that. They had always seen his strength, from the first time he smiled at them. So no, they had no idea of his true snark and vigilante persona, but they knew more of him than anyone but his Eraserdad.

“And the knife wounds?” Todoroki prompts, switching the conversation back on track.

“Villain attacks,” came the truthful reply. Well, no, not the full truth, but it wasn’t a lie, exactly.

“How many?”

“Attacks? Not sure. Scars? Four, technically.”

“I only saw two.”

“There’s one here,” he brushes his fingers against his blazer, just next to his belly button,
“And another here,” he adds, pointing straight to the centre of his sternum. Two hands are suddenly in his space, trembling a scant inch from his wrist where it is still hovering in front of his chest. Neither of them quite seem to realise that they were moving, both looking a little surprised to see themselves waiting to touch Izuku, to comfort him. It was involuntary, natural. And seeing this, knowing this, Izuku gingerly moves his hand those last few centimetres, until all of their hands bump together, not one finger moving, listless but connected. After a few seconds, it is actually Shouto who takes the initiative and somehow manages to start interlacing all of their fingers together. It takes a bit of jostling, and Izuku giggles once or twice, but it isn't long before their fingers are all curled around each other and settled in Izuku's lap. If asked, none of them would have been able to say whose digits were whose, just that the moment, the connection, was theirs. They stayed like that until their time at the café ran out, simply basking in the comfort of each other and lots of warm, purring cats.

------------------

One day, a week or two into living together, Izuku leaves their bathroom without a top, and Aizawa first sees the scars left from his vigilante activities in their full glory. On one shoulder, two distinct puncture marks leave dents in his kid's flesh. Elisabeta. Just above his hip, there is an entire green web-spill-stain discolouration, as though someone had dyed the skin, encircling a jagged divot of knotted flesh. The reminder of Scorpio's near-lethal fight. In the centre of Izuku's chest, the half-formed pentacle of that fucking cult was enough to give Aizawa nightmares, even as it was faint and thin now. There were numerous little nicks and curving slashes from debris and knives, one overlapping with a disgusting (disgusting because of the cause, never because of his kid - he had the most stunning brat ever - fight him) burn that coated a solid third of his ribs in a bubbling parchment scar, too red-purple to not be alarming. And then of course there were the scars from Shigaraki, the bastard. Not only had he dared to mar Izuku's face with a fucking handprint, but there were three more patches of scarring, looking somewhere between acid-attack and something unfamiliar, oddly dry and tight, combining into withered and pale. His poor kid really had been through the wars, hadn't he? And Aizawa knew there were more scars that he couldn't see, beneath the brat's uniform trousers. Kami...

Still, Aizawa doesn't say anything then, not wanting to risk embarassing the kid, but he does leave a large jar of scar cream outside Izuku's door one night, with a little note: If you ever want it - your choice. You don't need to. If you want help, ask. It is gone by morning, so presumably the kid's grabbed it. He doesn't have to use it, but it was definitely worth offering it, just in case.

Chapter Text

The lead up to the Sports Festival, for Izuku and the rest of his class, is hectic. It had started with walking out of their classroom to be faced with a crowd of other first year students. Izuku, Shinsou and Todoroki, still in the classroom, overhear some of the insults being thrown. They hear how somebody from Class 1-B jeers,

"You couldn't even take on a bunch of low-class villains! Maybe the Quirkless one infected you all with its uselessness-" And oh boy, Shouto and Hitoshi look furious at that, but Izuku isn't too bothered. Hurt? Yes, a little, but it's not too bad. Well, until,

"-Maybe that's why it had to go to hospital. Too weak. And as for your teacher? He must have been pathetic-" And now it's Izuku who's angry. Well, angry is a bit of an understatement. Izuku is suddenly jumping forwards, the tall doorway allowing him to use his own classmates' shoulders as stepping stones, before he comes crashing down on the blond who had been insulting his Dad, one foot crushing against the other student's collarbone, laying him flat out on the floor before anybody can even blink.

"Shut the fuck up," Izuku hisses, blind with fury and primal rage, practically spitting in the kid's face,

"Our teacher nearly died. We all nearly died. None of us are pathetic or weak or useless. You will not insult us or our teacher like this. Aizawa-sensei was willing to die for us. We had to save ourselves. I stabbed a monster - a monster genetically-modified to kill All Might - in the brain. It died. See this? This is a scar from one of those villains. He had a disintegration quirk; the same one that destroyed the school gates." Everyone has backed up by now, even his own classmates. Yet Izuku keeps on talking, stomach full of vicious bile and vitriol, unable to keep it back,
"He held my face and disintegrated it. He would have done the same to you, had you been there. Would you have survived? Would you have kept fighting, even as your weapons were turning to ash along with your own flesh? Would you?" The boy looks terrified, eyes wide and wet, shaking his head frantically, blond hair dirtying in the muck of the corridor floor.

"Then leave us the fuck alone." And Izuku steps off of the other teenager, quick to walk away. Everyone hastens to get out of his way and they scramble against each other to avoid him. Good. Let them be scared. They deserved it, for daring to agree with that fucking prick.

It is a mere five minutes later that Izuku comes out of his haze, sat against their usual lunch-time tree, trembling and breathing erratically, each of his friends pressed solidly against his sides.

"Izuku, green bean, are you back with us?" Shinsou's voice is low and velvety, almost purring. But it is the worried note to it that fully drags Izuku back to reality.

"Da-dadzawa. Please," he gasps out, fighting off the panic attack that is clawing at his lungs. He hardly even registers his two friends trying to calm him down, until those magical words.

"We'll get your dad. J-just unlock your phone and we'll call him, okay? Come on green bean, all you need to do is put the code in, then he'll be here." And that's enough to get him tapping the four numbers in with a shaking finger and he's zoning out again, struggling to breathe. He vaguely hears Todoroki talking into his phone - Please Sensei, he's having a panic attack. We're in the back courtyard. He really needs you, he's not responding to us - and internally notes that it's weird that his calm, unflappable Shouto sounds so perturbed, but he doesn't have the mental presence to do anything about it. So instead, he keeps on trying to drag air into his lungs desperately, vision wavering in and out, black and white, oh it's back again and look there's his Dad, wonder why he looks so worried-

"Izuku, kiddo, I need you to breathe for me, got it? Come on kid-" And suddenly, that rumbling voice is grounding him and there's fabric round his neck that he can breathe into, inhaling the scent of safety and home and nothing can attack me whilst he's here. And he'd finally coming down from the panic, his lungs no longer fighting him, his body relaxing, caught in between two warm people either side and his Dad - oh thank fuck, Dadzawa is there - crouched in front of him, scowling fiercely, dark eyes alight with worry.

"S-sorry," he mumbles, burying his face further into the man's capture scarf. At some point, it must have been transferred to his own neck. He's immeasurably glad for it.

"Don't be kiddo," Aizawa replies, pushing a hand through his tangled hair, looking tired and relieved and so much more, all at once. Izuku winces in sympathy.

"B-but I- I hurt some kid. He was d-dumb and cruel and said shit he shouldn't have said, b-but-" '-I hurt him Dadzawa.'  Caught up in his thoughts, Izuku doesn't see how the man's frown deepens, although his two friends don't miss it.

"Brat, don't worry about it. You won't have done any serious damage, I can guarantee. What was he saying?"

"He called you pathetic. He fucking dared to call you pathetic." Anger brings his voice back, but before Izuku can start to rant, Hitoshi interjects,

"And he was insulting Izuku for being Quirkless. Called him an 'it'. The kid's disgusting. Somebody needed to shove it to him."

"Hm. With that, plus everything else, I imagine Nedzu will just write the whole thing off." And Hitoshi and Shouto get the distinct feeling that they're missing something there - "everything else"? - but they leave it; they know Izuku's like them; he's had a rough life. They're best off just supporting him as best they can. So that's what they'll do.

"Right, you've got a couple choices here kiddo. You can stay here with your friends and me; I can go; you can come with me to the faculty office or, if you really need to, we can head home. Up to you, brat. None of us mind what you choose." Izuku goes silent, eyes down-cast for a few long seconds, then brings his hands up to sign, voice giving out again,

'Can we all stay here, like this? I- I don't want anything more.'

"We can do that. Feel up to some food? Shinsou brought your bento for you." Izuku shakes his head, but took a moment to smile gratefully at his friend all the same, then at Shouto too for good measure. Dadzawa's face softens even further, and he reaches forward to curl a hand through his kid's hair.

"Alright kiddo. But you're eating extra dinner tonight, you hear? No skiving - don't think I won't set Kimchi on you." Izuku snorts at that, and Shinsou leaps at the chance to brighten their friend up.

"Kimchi? Is that the ginger-white tabby? She's cute."

"She's a menace," Aizawa grumbles. Shinsou doesn't even flinch at the tone, too focussed on how Izuku seems to be brightening at the conversation. And how his voice is back,

"Sh-she's not! Well, not always..."

"Bullshit," the man snorts.

"N-no! I mean, m-maybe?"

"She's called Kimchi because she's salty as fuck, kid. Not to mention she smelled like shit and was in a Korean takeaway box when I found her. Point was: salty. She's a demon. What about when she chased you for daring to sit next to her?"

"Fuck, yeh, okay, I'd forgotten about that."

"Wait, what? Why haven't we heard this story? Green bean, spill."

"Please Izuku?" added Shouto, eyes beseeching. This sounded hilarious.

"Ugh..."

"Oh, I'll tell you if he won't. It was great," Aizawa has his cheshire grin in place. Normally, it would give Hitoshi and Shouto shudders, but right now it did the opposite.

"Izuku was half-asleep, and he hadn't put his blazer on yet so he was in short-sleeves and he just flopped on to the sofa. Kimchi's a weird little shit, so she likes to wriggle behind the sofa cushions. Izuku didn't sit on her, but she clearly didn't like him being near, because she just came flying out from between the cushions and goes for his face. Izuku shot up, probably about the quickest I've ever seen him move, and that's saying something, and just fucking yeeted himself around the room and she kept on chasing him. Eventually I took pity and grabbed her but I swear to God, it was brilliant. She got him a few times. He was terrified." And now Izuku is pouting as his friends laugh, Hitoshi crowing raucously, Shouto more soft and subtle, but seeing them happy sends a warm little thrill through him. Meeting his dad's gaze, he has to mouth a quick 'thank you'. Aizawa just nods, once, in acknowledgement, his own face neutral once more but his eyes full of warmth. God, how had Izuku got so lucky?

"Y-you two, stop it. Honestly, you're all so mean," Izuku whines, enjoying how the two try to sober up but simply can't. Half of it is probably relief on their part, but the genuine mirth is still wonderful. They all spend the rest of the lunch period exchanging cat stories, cheering each other up. At first, Hitoshi and Shouto are a little awkward because this is their hard-ass teacher they're talking with. But, Aizawa is also Izuku's dad and when they see how he treats their friend, (hint, he's soft) there's no questioning how important they are to each other. And, well, cat stories make every social interaction better.

Finally, the warning bell rings for lessons, and Aizawa helps his kid to his feet.

"Right kiddo, you three are gonna go back to class. I'll come to talk to everyone, let them know that this shit won't be allowed again, then leave you to your English lesson, alright? If the other classes try giving any of you lot trouble again, tell me. I'll deal with it. Expulsion, if I can." And with that tone of voice, there was no doubting exactly that.

"Kay. Don't kill anyone!" His voice is chipper, but the faint tremble has returned to the greenette's limbs. Aizawa is quick to lay a heavy hand in his hair, then dig through his utility belt with his spare hand.

"I'll have to take my capture weapon back, but, if I can find the fucking thing- where is it- have this," he offers, pulling a throwing knife out of his belt pouches. Hitoshi and Shouto would be lying if they said that they weren't a little shocked at how Izuku's face lit up and he eagerly took the weapon, seamlessly spinning and flicking it from finger to finger. He seemed far too practiced with the thing.

"Thanks Dadzawa." Aizawa simply nods, pressing his hand more firmly against his kid's head, reclaiming his capture scarf before turning and leading the way back to 1-A.

"Seats, hellspawn!" The class are quick to obey their homeroom teacher, Present Mic stood against the wall behind him, waiting to start their English class. But first...

"Right. I'm aware that there was a crowd of other students waiting for you all earlier and that they said some- unsavoury things. You lot were right to take no shit from them." At the immediate righteous uproar, he raises a hand, flashing his Quirk. The brats instantly fall silent.

"I'm not saying beat them up, or that you can always react to every little thing someone says. You have to learn to balance restraint with protecting yourself and others. And you're teenagers, so you'll probably mess up sometimes. But never forget that you do have a right to defend yourselves. And if you can do so with minimal damage in a way that will prevent further conflict in the future, then take it. Also, know that as pro heroes and your teachers, we are all here to look out for you idiots, god help us, so don't be dumb and try to deal with things bigger than you can handle, got it? That's all. Behave." And with that abrupt ending, Aizawa trudged out. He wasn't half ready for a nap.

---------------------------------

Following on from that mess, there are two weeks of training before the sports festival. Aizawa allows Izuku, Shinsou and Todoroki to book one of the school gyms after school each day, and naps or does paperwork whilst they spar, both with Quirks and without. Occassionally, he'll do a parkour route or two with his problem child, using the various landscapes and bits of equipment scattered around the gym, but he largely leaves them to their own devices. For teenagers, they're rather sensible, and he knows that Izuku, and by extension his friends, deserve to be pushing themselves of their own accord, earning their own rewards. Yes, he still allows Izuku to go on the odd patrol with him, because the kid gets fucking restless, to the point of needing to fight and run rooftops and follow an information trail. Really, it's no different than an internship. And well, if he didn't have the kid with him, then who knows what kind of the trouble the brat would get in? At the very least, he would have been bugging Tsukauchi. Well, he already did that, but, like, worse. It would be so much worse.

So, anyway, Aizawa spotted for the three kids' training. And he only had to take them to Recovery Girl twice. Miracles would never cease. He'd made sure that Izuku was aware of the forms he could fill in to request permission for a support item or two but, unsurprisingly, the brat was already fully aware of them and had brandished a half-filled one for his bo staff when his Dad had mentioned the matter. With a sigh and a fond twitch of the lips, Aizawa had simply left him to it at that point. The kid would be fine.

Chapter Text

The day of the Sports Festival came around all too quickly. Aizawa had declined to take a patrol the previous evening and was simultaneously relieved and kicking himself for such a decision. On one hand, it meant he was home, which meant that Izuku was home too. Safe. On the other hand, the kid wouldn't fucking sit still, and had been pacing for hours. When the pro hero eventually managed to get the brat to 'just fucking sit, problem child', he had insisted on bringing his hand weight with him. At that point, Aizawa had given in. Allow the kid to have the weights and maybe if he got him enraptured in a documentary or something, then he would at least get obsessed enough to sit back and watch without fidgeting and exercising like some kind of muscle-head. Well, it kind of worked. Put it this way: midnight saw Aizawa slumped on one end of the sofa, covered in blankets, cat and teenager, only one of which were asleep. Aizawa was still idly watching the nature program that some random channel was airing, one hand buried in Cadaver's fur where the cat was stretched alone the side of his thigh, wedged in between him and sofa arm. And his other hand was settled in his kid's hair from where the brat was leaning against his side, dozing a little but overall still far too awake, allowing himself to list heavily into his Dadzawa, sleepily mumbling about the odd thing on the documentary, to which Aizawa would hum, half-listening, and wish that the kid wasn't so antsy, so insomniac, so anxious, even as he loved his kid and understood his troubles. For Izuku's sake, it would be nice if the kid wasn't traumatised and naturally high-strung. But still, here they were, and ultimately, Aizawa wouldn't change it for the world.

He would like some fucking sleep though.

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Dawn came around to them both finally asleep. Hey, five hours wasn't bad in the grand scheme of things. Pretty good in fact. And it wasn't like they didn't both have permanent purple-black eyebags that were inherent with insomnia and days of over-working themselves. Honestly, if it weren't for trying to look after each other, they would probably already be dead of exhaustion. Regardless, they were both awake just before six that morning and, as Izuku headed off to shower, Aizawa started on getting breakfast ready. No juice or jelly pouches today, unfortunately. Instead, he was bothering to make spinach-laced tamagoyaki, handling the rectangular skillet with a hand far more practiced of late, what with having to sustain a teenage boy who did a piss-poor job of remembering to help his body by doing things like feeding it. Honestly, what was he going to do with his brat? Distracted by the pot of miso soup coming to a boil, Aizawa hurried to turn down its heat and leave it simmering without getting too distracted from the thin layers of egg that were all too easily burnt. At least the kid was quick to shower and should be out any second now- Ah, yes, there was the sound of bathroom door and out came a freshly-washed brat, hair still dripping onto the towel around his shoulders, but, hey, he was up and dressed, undershirt and school-issued tracksuit bottoms already on. A good start.

"Food's pretty much done. Lay the table?" Izuku murmurs incomprehensibly in reply, but does start to shuffle around the kitchen. If he is a bit heavy-handed with the crockery and cutlery, then Aizawa couldn't truthfully say he really cared himself. He'd definitely been worse whilst half-asleep before. Serving up the meal so far, Aizawa nudged his brat with an elbow on the way past, telling him,

"Better dry that mop some first though. Don't want hair-water in your breakfast."

"Urgh. Gross, Dad. Why would you even say that?" Suddenly far more awake, the kid steps away from the table and roughs his hair up with the towel, before apparently deeming the job sufficient and abandoning the towel by the washing machine and sitting back down. Welp, apparently it was only going to be Aizawa who actually noticed that Izuku had called him 'Dad'. Usually it was 'Dadzawa', or 'Eraserdad' out in costume. And those were great (wonderful, a blessing, something in the back of his head crows) but to be called 'Dad'... Somehow, it meant just that impossible bit more. Fuck, he did not need to be getting sentimental and illogical at this time of the morning, let alone when he had a meal to eat.

"Itadakimasu," he muttered before digging in. Neither spoke as they ate, ever practical, and frankly not truly aware enough for a proper conversation. Despite that, the silence was far from uncomfortable, nor was it anticipatory as for when they were stalking some villain. Instead, it was just a casual familiarity that meant they didn't need a single word, simply enjoying the solace of the other's company and some decent, hot food. And well, if they did start to talk, it would inevitably turn to the Sports Festival that day, and, quite frankly, Aizawa wanted Izuku was stress-free as possible. So, no Sports Festival conversation.

It wasn't like Izuku needed any help with it. He'd independently predicted roughly what the events would entail, then passed that information on to his closest friends (in other words, only Todoroki and Shinsou - Izuku wasn't particularly close to anyone else. Aizawa refused to worry himself over that just yet though). And, of course, between two-and-a-half years of vigilante-ing, plus his hero course training and personal training, Izuku was more than prepared. Aizawa knew his kid was going to take the Festival by storm, then the world, just out of pure determination and raw skill, Quirk or no. Didn't stop him worrying though. He was the brat's Dad after all.

----------------------------

"Oi, Deku!"

"Yes?" Izuku asked, keeping his voice as neutral as possible, partially to hide that he was still fucking traumatised thank-you, and half to keep Hitoshi and Shouto a bit calmer. They could do without a fight breaking out in the waiting room before the Festival even started.

"I'm gonna beat your shitty ass into the ground, got it? You're gonna fucking die and I'm gonna enjoy every fucking second of it."

"Okay."

"HAHH?!"

"I said, okay." And then Izuku goes back to his signed conversation with his two best friends, carefully ignoring how Kaa- Bakugo had small explosions popping, Kirishima and Sero holding him back. He sent them a grateful, if somewhat wobbly, smile once they had calmed the blond down. But then, before he could properly thank the two, Present Mic's voice was coming through the room's speakers, instructing the classes to start heading out to the field. Oh God, here they go.

Stepping out into the bright light of the arena was nerve-wracking in and of itself, quite frankly. Izuku still hadn't truly adjusted to fighting in broad daylight, and without a varying terrain to leap off of. He was most used to, and quite frankly most suited to, a night-time urban landscape. Far from what was likely to be offered up here, or in the third round either, which was always straight one-on-one or paired tournament fights. Far from the ambush-style fighting that he favoured as a vigilante. And of course, there was the issue of the clamouring crowds, almost violent in their riotous cheering and yelling. Still though, having his two best friends at his side kept him calm, breathing in deep and finding himself clutching their wrists. It doesn't take a moment for them to both shake his grip off and he startles, goes to apologise, hurt blaring through his chest, when he finds his hands being held carefully by theirs, both looking down at him with unbearably fond expressions, as blank as they might look to an outsider. Izuku can only beam in response. One good thing about the sea of bodies is how it works to hide their affection from prying eyes. And now they're coming to a stop, stood close to the raised platform where Midnight is stood, Present Mic announcing the arrival of the last few classes. But then Izuku is focusing in on what is being said, a bad feeling creeping down his spine-

"-and now our year representative - the student who got the highest written exam scores, along with a tie for first place in the hero course practical exam! It's MIDORIYA IZUKU !" Fuckity fuckity fuck fuck. Why hadn't Dadzawa warned him? What-? But then Izuku is getting pushed to the front of his class by 'helpful' hands, and he barely keeps himself from stumbling as he mechanically makes his way up to the podium. Holy shit, what is he meant to say? What- how- he's not qualified for this- Izuku's panic-laced gaze suddenly catches on the announcer's box. And he can't see inside it, but he knows that his Dad is up there. He believes in him, so Izuku can believe in himself too, can't he? His Dad is clever after all, so there must be a reason. Izuku only needs to find it.

Finally at the podium, Izuku leans slightly into the microphone and takes a deep breath to steady himself. He can do this. He can - Dadzawa must believe he can, so he will.

"We have all worked hard to get here," he begins, signing along to ground himself, and, well, no harm in being inclusive too,
"We have all faced challenges, some greater than others, but we've all fought. None of us are weak or pathetic or useless for having difficulties, and today we will prove that. Today we will go beyond and prove ourselves to the world. Let's go Plus Ultra!" He was joined by the rest of his year for the final cheer and he allows himself to grin just a bit, knowing it is probably a tad feral but unable to help himself.  Pledge over with, Izuku steps away as soon as he can, letting out a sigh of relief as he can rejoin Hitoshi and Shouto. They both nudge him and offer little smiles and he revels in it. That went alright, all things considered, and now they can get on with what he's far more interested in. What should be either an obstacle course or a extreme climbing wall. And... yep, obstacle course. Something incredibly biast towards the hero course and those with physically enhancing Quirks to keep the next two rounds interesting, whilst culling the majority of the herd out. Charming.

"Stick to the plan?" Izuku murmurs to his two friends as the crowd converges towards the starting point. Shouto and Hitoshi nod resolutely and, not even ten seconds later, Present Mic's voice is ringing out with a deafening,

"AND GOOOOOOOOO!" Immediately, Shouto sends the three of them shooting forward on a spire of ice, getting ahead of the crowd and already past the majority of the entrance-exam robots in only seconds. Once their ice boost nears the ground once more, Izuku and Hitoshi drop off of the sides, rolling safely to the floor in a manoeuvre that they have practiced plenty enough times to execute it flawlessly, leaving Shouto to continue of his own accord. To keep his sperm-donor (Endeawhore, in Izuku's very accurate words) from getting too indignant too early on. But he's still helped to even the playing field for his two friends. A win-win, for the time being. And indeed, at this point it is simple for Izuku and Hitoshi to skid forward on the field of ice that Shouto sends out to take care of the remaining robots, leaving a booby-trap that had been Izuku's idea and that the other two had readily agreed to, sly smiles in place. Regardless, Izuku and Hitoshi are skating along the ice then begin running as it comes to an end and they approach the second obstacle. A series of thin wires, crisscrossing over a fathomless pit. Trust UA to go overboard, Izuku internally snorts. Still though, he is pleased to note that Shouto had melted his personal ice bridge behind him, leaving them, but more importantly everyone else, to have to approach the challenge more directly. And best of all? This is fairly easy for Hitoshi, who Izuku has been drilling on balance and speed, and even easier again for Izuku himself, who has been parkouring for three years now, and whose applied gymnastics is likely the best in their class. 

So Izuku doesn't even hesitate for a thought before he's dashing along the ropes, agile and well-balanced, not much different to his usual pace on solid earth. Or, for that matter, a rooftop. Funny that. And, even as he idly notes Present Mic's exclamation of,

"Hoo boy! Look at Midoriya of 1-A go - he's fearlessly running straight across the The Fall without hesitation or a wobble - what balance! And Shinsou, also of 1-A is following with similar grace. And coming up fast behind them is Bakugou, utilising his Quirk to bypass the obstacle entirely - will he catch up with Todoroki, in the lead? Or will he falter? And, looking back at the Villains in the Robo-Inferno, we can see-" Focusing fully on himself again, Izuku forces himself to ignore the distinct sound and smell of nitroglycerin explosions somewhere above his head and off to the side. He knew Bakugou would do well - but that doesn't mean that Izuku will lose, ultimately, or that he can't do well too. So for now, he focuses on what's coming up. A Landmine Field. Joy.

Taking a moment to analyse just where the little lumps - clearly where the mines are, judging by the two that Bakugou had set off whilst landing - are, Izuku instantaneously begins to veer off to the side. Trying to run over and around the little fuckers would be a pain. But so long as he doesn't leave the actual grounds of the course, he's well within the rules. So Izuku takes the simple route. He jumps up, easily hauling himself onto the fence that dictates the boundaries. Then, letting a little shit-eating grin escape, he runs along the top of it as easily as he had The Fall's wire and rope network. Distantly, he registers Present Mic saying his name again, but this time he doesn't bother to zone in, and simply focuses on traversing the distance as quickly as he can. He knows that Shouto and Bakugou are ahead of him and, in his periphery, he notices Yaoyoruzu and one of class 1-B with a bunch of fucking vines for hair - passing him, but he doesn't care. He just keeps on pushing himself, running as fast as he can without risking a fall, and once he's past the landmine field he jumps, rolls, and then is up and sprinting the last distance again, managing to overtake vine girl, then he's through the tunnel and it's done. It's done.

He's gotten through the obstacle course. And he came in fourth place. He - Quirkless, useless Deku - sarcastic, trouble-seeking Kidilante - came in fourth place. 

Not for the first time today, Izuku can't help but beam, toothy and pleased. And he knows, looking up at the announcer's box, Shouto already stood at his side and Hitoshi meandering over after coming in eighth, that his Dad is proud of him. It means the world.

Chapter Text

As they stand there - all 42 of them gathered at the foot of Midnight's podium - Izuku fastens his focus on the wheel of activities, watching it spin and land on... Yep, Capture The Points. UA's weird version of Capture The Flag, exactly what he predicted for the second round. And as such, they will be working in teams of two to four, with their team being worth their collective points, dictated by the first round placements. Izuku is painfully aware that as all three of them came in the top ten their points are going to be sky-high. Which would be good, except it leaves them as a target, particularly with Shouto having inched his way into second. Their target will be even bigger, what with the combination of his Quirkless status, Hitoshi's unknown-but-presumed-weak status and the possible prestige of stealing the number two hero's kid's points. Between the three of them, they will be an obvious choice to go after. But Izuku already has a strategy in mind and he refuses to allow them to fall at so early a hurdle. But first...

'Are we going to team u-'

'Don't even question it, green bean. We planned for this,'  Hitoshi interrupts, and Izuku can't help but smile at his two friends. Hopefully nobody else will ask to join their team. Zoning back into Midnight's speech, Izuku just catches the tail end of,

"-and so on from there, all the way up to first place, Bakugou Katsuki, who has... TEN MILLION POINTS!" There's a clamour from both the crowd and the students. Izuku isn't surprised - this isn't the first time that UA has pulled something like this after all. At least none of their three had come first - he deliberately had warned Shouto of the fact, albeit leaving the choice between his father's ire and their targetibility up to the heterochromatic teen. And maybe Izuku should be worried about Endeawhore's potential punishments for his friend, but his worries could wait until they had gotten through to the third round. And then Izuku would have a chance to enact his own plans to take down the bastard. But that wasn't a problem for now. Right now he just wanted to get them through to the third round.

As Midnight rounded off her speech with another crack of her whip - not that she was weird or anything - Izuku bumped shoulders with his two friends and began to sign their strategy re-cap, keeping his movements as small and discreet as possible, hidden in the triangle formed by their bodies.

'All okay still?' he rounds off. Both of his friends nod seriously, Hitoshi letting a sadistic grin escape and Izuku resists the urge to return it, as he would on patrol with his Eraserdad. He makes do with allowing his eyes to light up with an unholy glee. Usually, that look prompts his Dadzawa to either Cheshire-grin in return and start sending his capture scarf to keep Izuku still, in place, and not doing something likely minorly illegal. His two friends don't even flinch, Hitoshi's smirk only widening. Man, Izuku loves his friends.

Less than a minute later, an unfamiliar Support Course student with bubblegum dreadlocks and too many gadgets to count bounces over to them, grinning widely,

"Hey there, top tenners! Don't suppose you want another team member?" She is practically vibrating in place, mouth stretched out in a grin that is less welcoming and more toothy. Izuku likes her.

"Ah, no, thank you," Shouto speaks up, tone flat but managing a vaguely apologetic expression. For a moment, the girl pouts, then straightens up and grins even wider,

"Okay!!! My name's Hatsume Mei though - don't you dare forget it! Me and my babies are gonna be the best out there!" And with that she's gone again. Izuku kind of wants to go after her because she was cool and seemed like his brand of crazy genius, but he knows to leave it until later. Right now, he's got to focus on the plan for he, Toshi and Shou to get through to the next round without any problems. His strategy should be fine - nothing has come up to poke any holes in it just yet, so he'll take that. 

It takes another ten minutes of waiting around, deciding not to chat what with the cameras and audience potentially seeing their every sign - standing in their tight little triangle for the entire time would seem a bit too odd and they would like to actually get some internship offers. So they stand towards the edge of the arena, pressed comfortably shoulder to shoulder, and simply observe the other teams that are forming amongst their peers. Whilst most aren't surprising, seeing Kaminari with Iida, Yaoyoruzu and Ururaka isn't quite expected, although Izuku can easily see the logic - thanks to her Quirk, Yaoyoruzu can protect the rest of her team from Kaminari's electricity, and Ururaka can aid their manoeuvrability and speed, putting less strain on Iida. It looks like Hatsume managed to convince Bakugou to let her join his team, and Izuku does allow himself to shudder a little at that. Hopefully, Bakugou will remember the potential repercussions for coming after Izuku specifically and overly-violentally, even in the heat of the moment. Before the greenette can continue analysing the teams that have formed, Midnight suddenly starts to speak again.

"Aaaand time's up kiddies! Brace yourselves!" And that's all the warning they get before the ground beneath their feet abruptly starts to shift and then shoots upwards in segments. Good, platforms, like Izuku had predicted. Scanning the new layout, the teen is glad to notice that their platform - a square of concrete about ten metres wide - is about three-quarters of the way up. There are only three platforms higher than theirs, one at practically the same height, and then seven lower. That gives them something a vantage point. Plus, they're right at the outer edge of the arena space - which had been intentional, hence them having stood as far back as they could during the prep time - and that would also play into their strengths. 

"You have two minutes - when the buzzer goes off, you can leave your platforms! Good luck everyone!" Midnight crows with yet another crack of her whip. Izuku instantly turns to where a little flag has been brought out of their platform floor. Bright yellow, with red numbers. They're the second place team currently - so long as they protect this flag, they'll be nigh-on impossible to push out of the competition. So, defence is their primary aim.

"Shouto," Izuku prompts. His heterochromatic friend offers a firm nod and walks over to the flag. Crouching in front of it, he creates three ice domes. Each is around an inch thick, maybe a little less, and his intense concentration allows him to make said ice almost completely translucent. The rules dictated that the flag must not be hidden, only protected. And well, it is clearly visible, if perhaps a little warped. It's just not directly accessible; they're well within the rules. And, judging by the lack of comment from Cementoss, Midnight, Present Mic or his Dad, all of the overseers know that too; Izuku wouldn't expect any less from his Dad. Rolling out his shoulders and falling into a few lunges to stretch, he meets Hitoshi's gaze and they too exchange a nod. The three of them know what they're doing. Now it's just a matter of dealing with whatever dares to come up; honestly, Izuku is enjoying this so far - maybe he's not in his preferred terrain, but he's adaptable and he'd be damned if he didn't take full advantage of everything possible, loopholes included, particularly as he can at least parkour and sneak around as desired this round. They'll be fine. And it doesn't take long for Present Mic to begin a countdown-

"FIVE- FOUR- THREE- TWO- ONE- AND GOOOO!" Several people immediately jump into action, Izuku amongst them. With a few steps, he's jumping onto a platform a few metres below them, landing without a sound or wobble, just in the blind spot of the 1-B kid with lots of teeth and limp blond hair. It looks like- yep, looking at the ground surrounding this team's flag, it looks suspiciously... loose and soft. As though the concrete was freshly-poured, rather than set. A softening quirk of some sort. But still, there is a circle, a few inches round, surrounding the flag to stop it sinking. And that's just enough to land on. Assessing that the other teen is sufficiently distracted by observing another fight on the next platform along, Izuku sneaks forwards on silent feet. Then, once he's just at the edge of the soft patch, he bounces twice on his feet then throws himself forwards, half-flipping to land on his hands, almost poking his eye out on the flag itself. Thank God the things are only about six inches tall. Carefully transferring all of his weight to one hand, he snatches up the flag, tucking it into his belt, then settles back onto both hands. Bending at the elbows, he tenses up, then throws his weight back and up, pushing as hard as he can against the floor. A moment later, he lands back on his feet, toes just beginning to sink into the softened concrete but it's easy enough to simply take another step back. One flag down - as many more as possible to go.

Staying firmly behind the 1-B kid, Izuku half-turns to re-assess his next planned platform. There are currently four people on there, two clearly on the defence, being targeted by Shouji and Tokoyami. A lot of the attacks are landing in and around the flag there. Not to mention, the four- well, five people mean that he is all the more likely to get noticed. Okay, so he'll skip that flag. However, he does still need it to get to the platform after, so... Deciding it was well worth the risk, Izuku double checks that his stolen flag is securely tucked into his belt - visible, but not likely to fall out - then takes a deep breath and throws himself forward. For a long moment, he is suspended, high above a yawning concrete cavern, but then he is landing, absorbing the shock with a neat little roll, edge of his new platform only a risky few inches to his left, before he pops up, runs one- two- three- four- then jumps again, landing silently on the balls of his feet. Distantly, he notes the shouts of shock from the four he had passed so quickly, but they're quick to return to their own fight. But they're unimportant. His focus is on the three opponents - not villains, don't get carried away, they're still students - and two flags before him. Looks like this team have already retrieved one extra. And they've got two on defence. Not bad. But still, it won't be good enough. Not against Izuku.

In a blink, Izuku is darting forwards, sensing more than seeing all three of the other competitors startle and turn in his direction. But they're too slow. Before they can focus on him, before they can jump forwards or utilise their Quirks, Izuku is in and gone again, yet another flag clutched tightly in his fist, already stuffing it into his belt. As the shout goes up for someone to 'GRAB HIM', Izuku is already throwing himself off of the platform. One-handed, he grabs ahold of the nearest slab of concrete, wincing internally at the jarring strain, before swinging away, aiming to land upon one of the few unoccupied platforms. It doesn't take a thought to jam the second flag into the opposite side of his belt and then he's landing, rolling, up again, running forwards then jumping upwards. Now clinging on to the edge of yet another section, he takes a breath and swings. His legs seesaw forwards, then he uses the consequent backwards momentum and sheer upper body strength to flip backwards onto the new platform. On his feet again, he faces his new oppon- competitors. Ah, it's Ojiro. Up against Aoyama. Well. it's fairly obvious who would have been winning this fight - no offense, Aoyama - but now Izuku is here. And well, it's still fairly obvious, in his opinion, albeit with a different result.

"Sorry," he offers, no trace of a stutter in the face of his battle mindset, then blurs forward. In a few long strides, he is tumbling into a handspring, feet aimed for Aoyama, right in the solar plexus, and the French boy gets sent flying right off of the platform. Hopefully he can use his laser to get himself a better landing. But Izuku is already twisting in the air to secure his own steady landing on his feet, suddenly stood stock-still again. Ojiro is gaping at him, but he does have a guard up. Izuku can respect him for that much. It won't be enough though. No matter how accomplished the blond is, he is still dojo-trained - in a fight with rules, there's a good chance he'd at least give Izuku a run for his money but here, with something to protect against a street-trained fighter who is willing to use dirty tricks and his hard-won expertise, Ojiro is undoubtedly going to lose.

Accordingly, Izuku simply stand there, posture relaxed, hands loose at his side. His feet are carefully placed though, and his eyes are calculated. The tailed boy doesn't miss that. Hence why he stays back, defensive, trying to predict what Izuku will do. But the last thing he expects is for Izuku to take four slow steps backwards, towards the edge of the platform, and then to - apparently deliberately - drop right off of the edge. Alarmed, Ojiro runs forwards. Only to notice the white-knuckled fingers clinging on to the edge. But he notices too late, Izuku is already swinging his way back up on the platform, legs swooping up low to the ground, taking Ojiro out with a vicious side-swipe even whilst finding himself in a crouch on the platform yet again. Before Ojiro can even think to get up, Izuku is going again. And he may or may not kick the blond in the stomach on the way past, knowing it will wind him and prevent pursuit. Now Izuku has three flags. Perhaps he should take a break...? It's no fun if they don't leave enough for the other teams to fight over after all. For a long second, Izuku hesitates over his own thought process. That was a bit arrogant, in all honesty. But by the same token, his Dad would probably call it finally gathering some self-confidence, if somewhat sadistically so. Perhaps it's fine then... Huffing to himself, Izuku scans his surroundings again. Finding a place to hang out for a bit would be good, preferably somewhere fairly out of sight. And with that, out of mind. After dashing across a few platforms, crossing them before anybody can react, Izuku finds himself on an unoccupied area. And pauses to take a proper breath. Looking over to where Shouto is - barely visible from here, between distant and things blocking his view he can see that his friend is just fine. Judging by the couple of ice spears protruding off of their platform, he had only needed to deter a few oppo- competitors, Izuku they're competitors, away, before people had begun to steer clear. And, judging by the odd flash of purple he can see, Hitoshi is doing well too, keeping an eye out for any potential thieves and, presumable, taking any unguarded flags. Just because it's an unlikely eventuality, doesn't mean it's an impossible one. Might as well take advantage where they can.

"THREE MINUTES LISTENERS - just three minutes to go! At the moment, we have Team Bakugou in the lead, managing to keep ahold of their ten million point flag, in addition to collecting two more! But way into second is Team Midoriya, with 1875 points! Then Team Yaoyoruzu with 930 and currently in the last final round spot is Team Monoma with 860! But all could change listeners - so keep those eyes peeled!"

Zoning back out of Present Mic's commentary, Izuku scans his more immediate surroundings. Where can he hide out for now... Ah. Perfect. Not too far away, there is some kind of net, the edges weighted with something like crossbow arrows - barbed and straight-shafted - that attach it, dangling vertically, to the bottom of a platform not too far and above where he is now. And it's right near the edges of the arena space. After deciding his route, Izuku is quick to parkour his way over to said net and he fearlessly jumps straight to it. Even just a glance, he can tell that it is sturdy - likely one of Yaoyoruzu's creations - and at least four of the hooks are thoroughly embedded into the concrete. It'll be safe. And so Izuku leaps forwards and latches on, feeling it jerk and give a little at his sudden weight and momentum. But it holds, as expected. The greenette quickly scales it so that he can tuck himself right under the platform, firmly in the shadows and out of most sight lines. He can safely hunker down here for a while.

All is fine, until Mic yells,

"ONE MINUTE TO GO LISTENERS! You're in the last sixty seconds of the second round - are we gonna see any last minute - get it? - changes to the points board?!" And that in and of itself isn't a problem. The issue is when a series of explosion issue from the top of Izuku's platform and the whole thing shakes, dropping cement dust. Then he can hear Bakugou roar something along the lines of,

"DIE SHITTY EXTRA!" and the cry of someone unfamiliar, but then Izuku's platform does more than shudder under the next detonation. It cleaves straight in half, the break forming so as to connect the hooks like dot-to-dot. Izuku is not very impressed. For a long moment, Izuku can only squint up through the cement dust, meeting those red, red eyes as he begins to fall backwards through the air, his hiding place gone. Why does Bakugou always make him freeze up? Why is he such a useless fucking Deku when faced with the blond? So what if he had bullied him viciously for a decade? So what if he had told Izuku to kill himself seven times? So what- No, now wasn't the time. Now was the time to twist himself in air, find purchase on the chunks of platform falling around him and push off again. More rubble, jump further, another piece, now he can reach a platform. But as he swings himself up, he hears that dreaded screech.

"DEEEEEKKUUUUUU!" And he can't help but flinch, even as he's up and racing away, already leaping for yet another platform, because he can hear the explosions behind him and feel their heat searing his skin, hear the taunts of his bullies in his ears and feel the heavy-heartedness of seeing his dreams crumbling to pie-

"TIME'S UP EVERYONE! And what an exciting round that was!" Izuku freezes as the explosions stop. As Present Mic announces the passing teams and their scores. He stays there, still and unbreathing, as the platforms carefully lower themselves back into place, forming a flat arena once more, even if it is broken up and covered in various bits of gadgets and equipment. He finally moves when Hitoshi and Shouto race up to him, carefully crowding to his sides in a way that is so blatantly protective that there is no way he could feel overwhelmed or awkward or unsafe. He finally breathes in, and offers them both a shaky, but sincere smile. He forces himself to ignore the sound of little pops and crackles as Bakugou bickers with how own teammates quite a distance away. He's safe now.

And, even better, they're through to the third round.

---------------------------

Just to offer a proper explanation of Izuku's strategy:

Shouto stays back on the far edge of their large platform, three distinct layers of ice doming over their flag, translucent enough to be 'in sight' as necessary in the rules, but utilising the loophole within that that Izuku spotted, as theirs isn't directly accessible, but they didn't say it had to be- a field of ice rendering the rest of the platform nearly impossible to land and fight on. They're lucky enough to have a fairly high platform, about 3/4 of the way up, and take full advantage of the fact. Izuku is their vanguard and main offence, as he parkours his way around all of the platforms and sneaks in to take whatever flags he can. Shinsou acts as a sort of scout and initial defence, working in a ring around 'their' platform, both on the levels above and below, trying to keep most of their potential opponents away without revealing his Quirk and warning Shouto pre-emptively of anyone approaching - he wishes he could do more, but Izu and Shouto tell him to 'save your best for later, Toshi, when it will be more of an advantage - let us help you like you help us' so, reluctantly, he agrees to keep his Quirk under wraps. logically, he knows that's best, it's just to feel like he's not really contributing. needless to say, their strategy works pretty damn well and plays to all of their individual strengths whilst still keeping them as a cohesive unit.

Chapter Text

They have an hour and a half break before the third round match-ups are announced, and the three are quick to get to the quieter corridors, headed towards the main school building. Their usual lunch-time courtyard is only a ten minute walk, so they will definitely have plenty enough time to eat and get back.

'Oh, wait. Is It okay if I meet you two there in a bit?'  Izuku receives two scrutinising glances, so he goes on,
'Want to see my Dad.'  And now Shouto and Hitoshi are giving him fond little smiles that would be practically invisible if he didn't know their expressions so very well.

'Sure Green Bean, we'll see you at our usual spot?'

"Thanks Toshi, Shou!" Izuku chirps aloud, grinning at them for a second before suddenly running forwards a few steps, jumping, and latching onto an air vent that swings open with his weight. As soon as it's hanging vertically by its hinges, Izuku transfers his grip to the inside of the air vent and pulls himself up, foot hooking around the cover to bring it back up behind him. And then he's gone. For a long second, Hitoshi and Shouto stare at the gap between them in bewilderment, then meet each other's shocked gazes.

'Our green bean sure is a cryptid.'

'Indeed,'  Shouto replies, eyes crinkling fondly at the corners to match Hitoshi's self-satisfied smirk. They adore their weird little friend after all.

'Lunch?'

'Lunch,'  the heterochromatic boy concurs and if they end up walking closer together, it's only because Izuku's left a gap. And, okay, maybe their pinkies are interlocked, but it's because they are friends and they don't want the other to get lost, right? That's perfectly normal! And if it makes them both blush a little, then nobody else is around to notice.

Meanwhile, Izuku is crawling through the vents, humming softly to himself. A week ago, he may or may not have hacked into the school system to look at all of the blueprints at like three in the morning. Sometimes his brain won't shut up, so he can't sleep, and he itches to do something productive. And well, examining the school blueprints for potential weak points was pretty productive, in his books. And then he'd found the plans for the Sports Festival arena, vents included, and he couldn't not take advantage of that knowledge to avoid the inevitable crowds. So here he was, crawling in what he was fairly sure was the direction for the announcers' booth. Hopefully, around one more corner, then a left junction and... yep - he could see his Dad and Present Mic below the grate he was currently peering through. Silent, not sure if the microphones were still activated, he unlatched the vent cover and eased it open, then swung himself out, dropping into a silent crouch on the floor behind the heroes' seats. Immediately, his Dad spun to face him, Quirk activated, but then smirked at seeing who it was.

"Really kiddo, the vents?" Present Mic turned and yelped, then began to laugh.

"Hey there little Listener! You here to see your Dad?" Izuku simply nods, offering the blond man a small smile, then bounds forwards to perch on the desk where the microphones and two open bentos lay.

"You could've told me about the speech thing, Dadzawa. Did you want me to shit myself?" Aizawa barks out a laugh, both he and Izuku tactfully ignoring Hizashi's spluttering.

"Eh, knew you'd be fine. Was I wrong?"

"You tell me, old man."

"If you must know, brat, I was right, as always."

"Aw, thanks Dadzawa," Izuku coos, seemingly sarcastic, but there is a genuine undertone that Aizawa would be hard-pressed to miss. And if he can't help but reach over to ruffle his brat's hair? Well, sue him. It's fluffy.

"So you're in the third round. Finally going to use your bo staff?"

"Probably. Particularly if they're setting up three-on-three, or well, team-on-team fights like I think they are. I'll want the versatility and the option to let Toshi borrow it." Again, they both ignore Present Mic choking on nothing, but then he gasps out,

"How- you shouldn't know- Shou-!"

"He's a conniving little sneak, he figured it out by himself. And I hadn't confirmed or denied it yet."

"Nice to know I was right though!" Izuku grins sharply at the glare his Dad send him at that,

"Don't get arrogant - pride comes-"

"Before a fall, and I don't want to fall with our usual patrol routes. Got it, worrywart."

"Tch," Aizawa grunts at him, nudging the brat's leg with his elbow.
"Don't sit so close to my food. You'll get teenager in it."

"Wow, articulate."

"Says you."

"Yes, says me," Izuku returns in English, earning a fierce scowl.

"You fucking brat."

"Hobo caterpillar."

"Insufferable-" They both stop to stare at Hizashi, who is bent over in his seat and cackling, hair threatening to stab into his open bento box. Then they meet each other's deadpan stares and wait. Eventually, they can hear themselves think once again, and Aizawa speaks up,

"You've done well so far kiddo, keep it up. Now go eat your lunch." And Izuku leans into the accompanying hair-ruffle, then bounces off of the table and up into the vents once more, clicking the cover shut behind him. After a few seconds, Hizashi smiles at his friend,

"He really is your Kidilante, huh Shou?"

"Yeh," Aizawa huffs, apparently unaware of the content smile tugging at his lips. However, Present Mic certainly doesn't miss it and can't help but grin in response. It's good to see his best friend so happy.

Having enjoyed a quiet lunch with his two friends, Izuku, Shouto and Hitoshi were headed back into the stadium space. The waiting rooms were open to the third-round competitors - one to each team. 

'So Izu, how do we think they're structuring the third round?' Shouto asks and Izuku bounces a step as he delves into his thoughts,

'It's guaranteed to be a tournament. I have a feeling they might go for team match-ups first though? Well, between the statistics I calculated and the current state of society, and UA's reputation and everything, I think they're going to keep on promoting the whole teamwork and co-operation thing and so they'll probably go for continued teamwork, particularly as the last round was strategic teamwork rather than combination fighting, for the most part. So at that point the teams will be competing against each other, then I'd assume that the top team will battle it out between themselves for each of the top spots, although that might leave room for bias and for team-mates carrying each other? Although, from what I know, all of the teams are individually really skilled so that's not actually a problem but it could have been and they really should have considered that but knowing Nedzu-sensei, he would have changed things last minute if that had been a serious issue and-' 

All three of them freeze when they round a corner to the sight of Endeavor. Shouto's hand is immediately gone from Izuku's and the heterochromatic boy goes to step forwards, to put himself in between his friends and his father. But before he can plant himself, stance wide and ready, mouth open to speak, he is tugged backwards by a small, strong hand on his bicep, and pushed gently to Hitoshi's side.

"Endeavor-san." And God, Izuku's voice is all ice and steel, unyielding and unwelcoming yet passive enough to still be polite. Holy shit.

"I'm not here to speak to you, runt. I'm here for my mas- son."

"What a shame he's not here to speak to you then, hero."  The title is spat like a foul curse, derisive and disbelieving, the tone alone making it obvious that Izuku thinks the man a blight upon the profession. He's not wrong.

"You-!" The flame hero stretches out a menacing hand, and Shouto is about to speak up, but the greenette beats him to it.

"I'm Midoriya Izuku, I apologise for not introducing myself earlier Sir!" Izuku chirps, suddenly all sunshine and rainbows, an adoring smile breaking out on his face. Endeavor flinches.

"Oh Sir, do you know how incredible Shouto is? The way that he controls his quirk  is brilliant! And his unique fighting style and individual  applications of a two-part elemental Quirk are really cool! Such a contrast to the drab, washed-up fire users you normally see on TV, flaunting unnecessary strength as though it makes them good heroes, or even good people! And their levels of collateral damage! Honestly, it's a wonder that nobody has collated all of the evidence of their brutality and sent it to the media yet, don't you think? It must be about time after all, that they learnt their place," and here Izuku abruptly loses the sickly sweetness that is more sinister than a loaded gun, falling back into a frozen abyss,

"With the leeches where they belong." Endeavor stands there, blinking at this scarred, saccharine teenager who had just threatened him so clearly yet improvably, flames guttering and flickering. With an Aizawa-trademark Cheshire grin, Izuku bounces on his toes, turns to latch onto his friends' wrists, and pulls them past the number two hero. He pays no attention to how he leaves his back wide open to the man, nor how Shouto and Hitoshi are utterly stunned, simply tugging them around the stupefied flame hero and continues on their way to their waiting room.

"Izu-"

"Not yet Toshi. In private, once I've texted Nedzu-sensei." Fortunately, it only takes them a minute to reach said waiting room and Izuku immediately pulls out his phone and texts first Nedzu, then his Dad. Then the three stand in silence for a long few moments.

"Holy shit," Hitoshi suddenly giggles, sounding fairly hysterical as he collapses to sit on the floor, still laughing,
"Green bean, that was- Holy shit."

"I've taken down people more dangerous than him before. And I wasn't lying about the evidence part; Shouto, the instant you ask for it, or if I think he's going too far - which I know shouldn't be my decision but dammit I won't see you hurt, not if I can help it - then my files get sent to the police and Nedzu. And I'll be publicly shaming him too, although not for abuse, unfortunately. But it would be shitty for you and your siblings to have your homelife publicised, so that bit will be kept to select officers and heroes. Is..." And here Izuku finally falters, suddenly unsure of himself, throat seizing up,

'Is that okay?'

Silence and stillness hang in the air. None of them move, nor even seem to breathe. But then there are strong arms wrapped around Izuku, pulling him in close, Shouto whispering a litany of quiet 'thank you's into his hair. Preceded by a groan of effort, Hitoshi stands back up from the floor to embrace them both, Izuku worming out an arm to hold him close too.

Who knows how long they stand there, leaning into each other, before a knock at the door sounds in a very distinctive pattern.

"It's fine Dadzawa!" Izuku calls as the three quickly disentangle themselves, turning to look as Aizawa, Nedzu and a plain man in a trench coat enter.

"Tsuka!" Izuku beams, bouncing forwards excitedly,
"Why are you here? Don't tell me you came all the way from the precinct? Unless there's a secondary speed quirk you haven't told me about? I'm offended, I-" His teasing is interrupted by his Dad,

"Kid, he was here anyway."

"You were?" And now Izuku is deadly serious, eyebrows furrowed and posture alert. The detective just offers him a smile and a pat on the head,

"I was here as a spectator, Izuku, I had the day off. You don't need to look so worried."

"Oh, cool! Have you been watching us three then? We were pretty amazing, huh? Almost good enough to be out fighting villains already," he leers, grin too sharp and too knowing. The man heaves a sigh, but his returning smile is fond,

"I suppose you would be," he concedes and Izuku beams truly once more.

"Aw, thanks Tsuka. Oh yeh! Tsuka, Shinsou Hitoshi and Todoroki Shouto; Toshi, Shou, this is Detective Tsukauchi of the Musutafu Police - he's cool, trust me." And none of them miss the slight emphasis on 'trust' and how both of his friends relax infinitesimally with it. Nobody comments regardless.

"Good to meet you both. I understand that Izuku's little project may be going ahead soon?"

"Yep! You can look at the CCTV for corridor 19, from about twelve-fifty to one-ten, our interactions occurred in that period, I think the latter half of it. And I reckon he might have blown a bit of a gasket once we were gone, so perhaps a little past the time frame too. Although for now we're still at the gathering stage - I haven't finished my data analysis, and for now, things are tenable," Izuku finishes up, with a questioning glance at the heterochromatic boy, who only nods once in return.

"Alright. Good work Izuku - I'll implement everything the minute you send me the files. Until then, keep it up. You still going to go for the whole public thing?"

"You bet I am! No way I'm missing his face when I do that - or the media outcry, for that matter. It'll be great."

"Just don't get yourself arrested," Tsukauchi sighs, exchanging a long-suffering look with Aizawa. And before the greenette can pipe up to defend himself, the detective pats his hair once more and nods to the other students,

"Nedzu, Aizawa, I'll be going now so that I can still get to my seat, but you can contact me any time regarding the future case. Izuku, good luck to you and your friends, although I'm sure you won't need it." Izuku just smiles wider and pats the man's cheek playfully before he can turn away. Once the door has closed behind the detective, it is Nedzu who speaks up,

"Todoroki-kun, I'm sure Izuku-kun has informed you of some of his plans, but I must express that he is not your only avenue of aid or opportunity, as reliable and capable as he might be. If you ever feel the need, my door is open, as is that of Recovery Girl and Hound Dog. Eraserhead's too, I am sure. We understand the delicacy of the case and will not take undirected action unless we truly believe you to be in immediate danger. Additionally, once your family is free of him, we will do all we can to ensure that you receive any help you need and will be able to continue your studies here - of that, have no doubt."

"Thank you, Principal," Shouto replies, bowing a little. And whilst his face is perfectly neutral, the warmth in his eyes is blatant. Izuku and Hitoshi can't help but smile at the sight.

"Of course!" the hybrid chirps, before bidding them all goodbye, with good luck thrown in as well. Now they are left with only Aizawa in the room.

"Todoroki, you are both my student and one of my son's two best friends," he begins, coming to stand in front of Shouto, a little slouched so as to be at eye-level with the teen, hands in pockets,
"And as such you should know that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe and happy. The instant you say so, we will remove you from that house, and ensure that your siblings and mother receive the support and protection that they also need. Got it?" And despite the terse words, his tone is neutral enough to be kind.

"Yes, thank you sensei."

"Don't mention it. Just keep on improving yourselves and give it your all for the final round, all three of you." Aizawa gets a little chorus of confirmations at that, so he nods and leaves with a passing hair-ruffle for Izuku. It's not his fault that his kid has the softest of fluffy curls, okay? And god damn, the way his kid leans into even a glancing bit of affection warms that weird little shrivelled thing in his chest through and through.

Once the adults are finally all gone, the three boys step closer once more, eyes bright.

"You alright Shouto?" Hitoshi asks, a worried twist to his smile that fades as the heterochromatic boy nods.

"I think so. It's... a lot. But it's not bad."

"I'm glad," Izuku confesses, wringing his hands a little,
"I was worried that you might hate me for interfering, or for potentially interfering or whatever, even if it was for your safety, so- uhm- I'm glad you're okay with it all."

"I think I'm better than okay." And both Hitoshi and Izuku reach over to each take one of their friend's hands at that, all exchanging soft little smiles with each other. They'll protect each other, come what may.

Including the third round.

Chapter Text

"And for our final round, we will be having a TEAM TOURNAMENT! For this, we'll be watching the teams made in the previous round as they all-out brawl to take the top spots. Then, the winning team will fight amongst themselves to claim their spots on the podium! So, is everyone excited?!" The roar from the crowd is defeaning, and you can hear the responding grin in Mic's voice as he goes on,
"Let's get to it then! A random generator will pair the four teams up aaaaaaaaaaand- there we go! Team Midoriya vs Team Monoma and then Team Bakugou against Team Yaoyoruzu! How exciting! The winning teams of this first tier will then face off against each other. It will be the true test of their second-round decisions and strategies, pooling their co-operation, tactics and combined strengths to take down their opponents. Of course, there are a few rules, to keep things fair..." As Mic gives a brief rundown of said regulations, Izuku takes a moment to grip his friends' hands and squeeze, just once, before letting go again. He doesn't want to overstep any bou- His thoughts are cut off as, almost instantly, both Shouto and Hitoshi carefully take his hands back and interlace their fingers. Glancing up at them in turn, both hold slight flushes to match his own, and neither of them meet his gaze, studiously watching the announcer's box. Unable to begrudge the fact - he has a nasty feeling that he'd squeak if he actually looked them in the eyes - Izuku simply focuses back in.

"-and, obviously, no killing or severe injuries are allowed! Anything to add Eraserhead?"

"...Don't let yourselves down."

"And with those inspiring words, let's get ready! Teams Bakugou and Yaoyoruzu, please return to the stands or your waiting rooms! We have ten minutes until the first fight will begin - strategise all you can little listeners! Cementoss!" he calls, and a cement wall suddenly bisects the arena between the two teams. This way neither group can see or hear the others. Good.

'First off, Monoma has Copy - I think he has a maximum of two or three copies, and they have a time limit of a few minutes, maximum six - we'll want to immobilise or disqualify him as soon as possible as he's the most versatile and unpredictable. Kendo - the ginger - has Big Fist which should be fairly straightforward. I'm probably best up against her - I think she'd break any ice. Shiozaki with her vine hair should be fine as she's doubly vulnerable to you Shou, and from what I've seen, her hand-to-hand is weak, so if Toshi or I get in close then that should also work. The taller blond has the softening quirk I mentioned from last round - I'm pretty sure he can direct it in straight lines, not just in circumferences. And Shouto, he'll likely be able to use it on your ice, so be careful of that. I think I'll be able to get in close to him though, particularly if you bridge me halfway.'

'How do we think they're going to start? Probably with their long-range, right?'

'I think so, yes. They'll want to finish this quickly - well, so do we - so I think they'll send the vines straight at us, in tandem with the softening. Testing the waters and hoping for a lucky 'out' early on.'

'So I ice the vines? What about the softening?'

'Well, I've got an idea about that...'  And, within a few minutes, the three have a rough plan in place. Should their predictions be wrong, they've got some contingencies too, so they're feeling fairly confident. They're strong, and they trust each other. They'll be fine.

"Alright little listeners, you all ready?" Receiving nods, plus two loud affirmatives from the other side of the wall, Mic whoops and Cementoss takes down the wall, arena floor seamless once more. The seven teenagers turn to face each other, although none move yet, only staring at each other warily.

"Midnight, take it away!"

"You got it Mic! Right, I'm gonna count you kiddies in: three, two, one - FIGHT!" She yells with a crack of her whip and instantly, a thick, writhing blur of green comes rushing towards them. Izuku and Hitoshi dash to the sides, out of the way of the Shouto's ice that thunders forward and upwards, rising to meet the vines and locking them up in its freezing confines. Izuku doesn't give himself time to grin as he pelts forwards, noticing that - as predicted - the softening concrete is heading directly for Shouto. Good. His plan should work then. For now... 

"The green one is this side!" Kendo calls as she races to meet him. As she gets close, her hands abruptly grow but Izuku was expecting it, and is experienced enough to pick up the physical tells in her posture. She's going for a left hook - logical, as it might well be forceful enough to swat him straight out of bounds. Except, just as she starts to swing, he jumps, landing on her arm and instantly bringing his leg round in a short kick to the side of her head. Kendo tumbles to the ground, semi-conscious. In contrast, Izuku lands lightly on the balls of his feet and pivots to face her once more. Hurrying, he grabs her by the ankles and unceremoniously throws her out of bounds, making sure that she lands as safely as possible. But then he's off again. One down, three to go. Or two, if Toshi has successfully trapped Monoma.

And indeed he has. Or well, actually, he has gone with a slightly different plan. Clutching Izuku's bo staff in hand, running down one side of the arena, Hitoshi has focused in on the arrogant snot who had dared to insult both his best friend and their teacher. 

"Oh look, it's 1-A scum! What's your Quirk I wond-?"

"You're the scum! You're just a fucking bigot, aren't you?"

"I'm not! Your class is full-!" But Monoma's face has gone slack, hands dropping to his sides. Hah, shame Hitoshi can't give in to all of his petty urges and beat the stuffing out of the bastard.

"Stand by the edge of the arena," he commands, smirking as the blond does so. Then, malicious smile widening, he follows the blond and takes the time to whirl on the spot and deliver the hardest round-house kick he can to the bastard's slack face, knocking him straight out of bounds. Vaguely, he registers Present Mic screaming about 'two merciless take-outs from the silent assassins of 1-A!' but barely gives himself a moment of satisfaction at those words and the sight of a confused, barely conscious Monoma prone on the ground with what may or may not be a broken face, blood streaming from his now-crooked nose, before the insomniac is running off again. He and Izuku have two more people to fight.

Meanwhile, Shouto is quite contentedly letting himself sink partially into the softened cement of the arena. As Izuku had predicted, the Hononeki guy had targeted Shouto to try and stop him from getting into the fight. But just because he was their powerhouse, didn't mean he was the one that needed stopping. After all, he was already a rather stationary fighter and, as Izuku had pointed out to him whilst strategizing, being partially stuck into the physical arena floor was actually an advantage of sorts. It kept him anchored within the boundaries. And well, that saved him from creating a wall of ice behind them to do the same job. This was evidenced when, seemingly getting desperate, the vine girl managed to tear herself free of the ice, sending chunks of ice flying everywhere, that had captured her hair (???) and sent a fresh wave of them, covering almost the entire arena with the writhing thorns. Shouto couldn't see his friends, but trusting them to be fine, he simply hunkers down a little and brings up a shield of ice in front of him. He's solidly held by the ground that had reached his knees and barely sways with the power of the vines shooting past him on either side.

"And Shiozaki lets loose! Her vines are covering the entire arena! We can see that Todoroki is easily withstanding the onslaught! In fact, he's using his opponent's softening quirk to his advantage! As for Midoriya and Shinsou - well, we can't see them! Hey Nedzu, do we have some drones about?" comes Present Mic's cheery announcement and the heterochromatic boy fights the urge to roll his eyes. That was so helpful.

Turns out, Izuku was plastered flat on the ground and army crawling his way forward. Not the most dignified, but nobody could see him, so who cares? And if nobody could see him, then that included his opponents.

In truth, Hitoshi may or may not have nearly been blasted out of bounds by the sudden mat of vines that exploded out across the arena. It had taken a last second duck and anchoring himself with Izuku's bo staff, jamming it against the ground, to keep him in place, even as one shoulder and the side of his neck and face got painfully caught, clipped by the quick-moving thorns. But hey, nothing important got hit, even though his shoulder and neck in particular are stinging viciously, little cuts and scrapes bleeding sluggishly. But it doesn't hamper his movements and it doesn't feel like there were any thorns actually stuck in him - although it wasn't very easy to tell at a glance - so he would take it. Bent at the waist, Hitoshi swallows his pride and drops to his hands and knees, rolling Izuku's staff along with him as it would be far too awkward to carry it like this. Still, he's headed towards their opponents, so that's good enough for now.

Izuku however is already reaching the other team. Or what's left of them. Shiozaki is stood straight, eyes closed, hands held in seeming prayer at her chest, the strain of this mass area of effect attack obvious in her grimace and the sweat trailing down her face. Beside her, Honenuki is crouched, maintaining the softened strip that is no doubt still keeping Shouto in place, and would no doubt notice Izuku soon, judging by how the blond is watching the shadowed half-height arena that they have been plunged into. If only Izuku had his throwing knives with him, this would be over in about twenty seconds, max. But this was a school-sanctioned event against inexperienced students, not villains, and he needed to restrain himself, keep his fighting level appropriate, and certainly not use blades against them. Gritting his teeth in frustration - half with himself for being so inconsiderate - Izuku slowly shifts up into a crouch, analysing where Honenuki is looking and how observant he actually is. The bad news: he seems to be taking in every little detail. It's only some jagged ice and the shadows that Izuku has pressed himself into, low to the ground, that keep him hidden from view. So the minute he leaves his little bit of shelter he's fully expecting to be spotted by the other boy, and that'll put him straight into a fight. And at this distance, even if he should be able to dodge Honenuki's softening effects, it would be tricky to get in close enough to deal with them both, particularly if Shiozaki has enough presence of mind and control of her quirk to be able to target him too, even as she maintains the large-scale attack. So, he needs to get in quickly enough or stealthily enough to get in close. And unfortunately, he can't rely on Shouto or Hitoshi to act as distractions or back-up - Shouto is undoubtedly busy trying to overwhelm Shiozaki with his ice (difficult, with how the vines shift and writhe constantly) and, worst case, Hitoshi has been knocked out of the arena, although Izuku wants to have faith that his friend won't have been, if he was mid-fight there is a strong chance he will have been caught off guard. So, no relying on his team. Right. Izuku could do this. So what if he had to hold back? He'd balance it out, somehow, it was just a matter of timing it perfectly. 

Waiting for the moment when Honenuki's attention started to swing back towards Hitoshi's side of the arena, Izuku darts forwards, staying low to the ground. His hands skim along the arena floor, amongst chunks of ice, rubble and decapitated thorns, and within a few seconds he's halfway to his opponents, ten metres covered, another three covered by the time Honenuki starts to properly react to him, the concrete darkening with how a swathe of it begins to soften, almost visibly rippling as it begins to liquidate. Fuck. He'd better get on with it. Hands bloody and slightly numb, Izuku tucks himself in a low aerial roll, successfully flying straight over the largest section of the fan-shaped soft concrete, one foot catching in the edges as he lands, but it's easy to use his momentum to keep on going and now he's in front of the enemy, chunk of ice in his hand that he jabs into the meat of their shoulder, taking the short cry of pain as a solid hit, bringing one leg up to jolt out a vicious kick that sends them flying back, head catching on vines that are suddenly going out of control. But the enemy - shit, no, idiot, the opponent, the student - is already falling out of bounds, and Izuku barely takes a second to confirm to himself that yes, Honenuki is out of the round, leaving only Shiozaki to fight. And damn, speaking of the girl, her vines are retreating fast enough for whiplash and Izuku has to tuck back into a lower crouch to avoid the writhing edges of the mat as it passes back overhead.

"Izuku!" And Hitoshi's voice is a relief to hear. Although Shiozaki seems to disagree as her eyes widen in something like panic, her vines almost limp around her body. She must have overexerted herself. Fuck yeah.

"Toshi, staff!" He yells, holding one hand out as he rises from his crouch. It only takes a moment for the slap of familiar hardwood to meet his palm and he grabs on, quick to spin it around and re-acquaint himself with the weight and balance, and just as Shiozaki seems to gather herself enough to send several vines lashing towards him, Izuku dodges lithely, stretching backwards in a neat back-bend, catching himself on his hands despite the grip on his bo staff, and springs back up to easily take out the girl's legs, catching the backs of her knees, then deliberately kicking her in the back so that her head doesn't smash into the concrete, but so that she also goes tumbling out of bounds. And that's it. It's done. They-

"AND THAT'S IT FOLKS! TEAM MIDORIYA HAS WON! In an impressive fight of tactics and counter-attacks, the 1-A trio has taken the first tournament fight by storm! And to have done so against the powerful 1-B team makes it an even more impressive feat! Eraserhead, aren't you proud of your students?"

"They should already know the answer to that."

"I'll take that as a yes! But honestly, what kind of stuff have you been teaching them? Midoriya might as well have an elasticity quirk!"

"That one came like that. And their determination, their inner-strenght, comes from hardship and heroic intentions. None of that's up to me."

"Always backing out of the limelight hey Eraserhead? But well done to both teams, we'll be re-playing some of the key scenes on our screens whilst we wait for the arena to get fixed up! Enjoy the re-runs listeners!" Mic chirps, as Midnight gestures at them all to leave. It doesn't take Izuku more than a few moments to crouch and scoop up both Shiozaki and Honenuki, lugging them both carefully over either shoulder, and he heads towards the nearest tunnel, studiously ignoring Mic's crows of sportsmanship. He pauses to wait for Shouto, who has brought Kendo along from where Izuku had knocked her out, Hitoshi still at his side. None of them hesitate to leave Monoma where he is. Meh, he's half-conscious already, he'll be fine. And maybe they're petty, but Izuku can't carry anyone else and after what the blond had said about his Dad, and himself too he supposed, Izuku wasn't going to ask his friends to pick him up either.

They're only a few metres down the corridor,  away from the worst of the crowd's noise, when some medic-bots come rolling towards them, stretchers in tow. Six of them pause beside them, and the 1-B students are carefully deposited onto the stretchers. Then, with the medbots gone, Izuku finally turns to Hitoshi and Shouto with his full attention.

"We did it! It went so we- Toshi! You're bleeding, are you okay, it only looks superficial, does it hurt? Of course it hurts, we should get you to Recovery Girl - I'm so glad that her vines aren't toxic-"

"Izuku, green bean, I'm alright. They sting, but they're only superficial-" Hitoshi pauses as Monoma is wheeled past, even though the blond is clearly pretty out of it, before he goes on,
"She didn't get me too badly. I should have reacted quicker."

"Hitoshi," Shouto warns, tone deep with concern and reprimand. The insomniac only offers a smirk,

"Aw, come on Shou, I'm tough. I'll survive a planthead or two." The teasing gets them all grinning again, and Izuku doesn't even hesitate when he reaches for their hands and gently tugs them towards the temporary infirmary station. They'd won! And now he was going to get his friends checked over before they all went and sat somewhere quiet to watch the next match together. To see who they'd fight next because they'd won!

Shouto and Hitoshi, caught up in the same glee of success and warmth of their little trio, contentedly allow themselves to be dragged along, exchanging fond glances. So far, things couldn't be going better: no major injuries, no Quirk reveals. Now they'd just have another team to deal with and neither would be an easy fight... But first, they had some time to rest up.

Chapter Text

"You guys were so cool! Totally ruthless too!"

"So manly!"

"Well done!"

"Congrats guys, that was great!"

"That blond 1-B bastard got what was coming to him!"

Izuku, Shouto and Hitoshi had come up to their class' seating area expecting to be left largely alone as usual. They got on well enough with their class, but the three were pretty insular. Particularly as they favoured sign language. Admittedly, Kouda spoke exclusively in sign, but he had fallen in with Tokoyami and Shouji, who also understood it, although their sign-speaking was a bit rusty from what Izuku had seen. Jirou and, regrettably, Bakugou also knew sign, but neither used it often. And even though all three of them could and did speak aloud - Izuku practically never, almost always with a stutter; Shouto when necessary for school work, cool and calm; Hitoshi for hero training or sarcastic one-liners - they stuck to themselves for the most part. They liked their classmates (although both taller boys had picked up on the starburst scars on Izuku's shoulders and had needed to be talked down by Izuku several times, convinced not to attack a certain explosive blond - they still physically blocked him from even making eye contact and his Dad was observant enough to mandate them not being paired up in training, even if he had yet to push Izuku for explanations) and, after the USJ, trusted them all, up to a point. But that wasn't quite the same as socialising. So to come up to the stands and immediately be met with a round of congratulations was quite shocking.

"Thank you," Shouto offers, speaking for all three of them. Izuku nods along with a slightly wobbly smile.

"Of course! Oh, oh, I wanted to ask you at lunch but I didn't see you but Mido, how did you get such good balance? I've done gymnastics and dance for years and years and I couldn't run that easily across the wires!" Ashido is bouncing up and down in her seat, blatantly resisting the urge to run up to Izuku and veritably shake him for answers. The greenette keeps his smile and stumbles out,

"I did too, wh-when I w-was a kid. For the last f-f-few years I've-ve been doing parkour though and t-telephone wires are a lot th-th-thinner and bouncier th-than the chords, s-so, um, I guess it's j-just experience?"

"Wahh - so cool!" The girl squeals and Izuku manages not to flinch. Huh, she was being really nice. They all were.

"Wait," Jirou speaks up, from a few seats down,
"Did you just say that you can run on telephone wires?" And everyone seems to freeze as that sinks in.

"Uh, y-yes? Only short distances th-though."

"Shit dude, they're hella thin," the girl goes on, clearly impressed. Weird.

"S-so am I?" There's a round of giggles and snorts from his classmates and Izuku can't help but flush a little. Particularly as not one laugh sounds malicious. Wow, UA really is a good place because goddamn he's never met a group of people this nice before, not his age at least, even if half of them are down in their waiting rooms.

"Still though Mido, you're doing super well - you too Shinsou, Todoroki!" That voice is Hagakure's, he knows, even if he can only see her gym kit and trainers. The three of them exchange glances, but all nod to her in thanks.

"So wait Mido, what dance did you do? I focus on hip hop, ballet and jazz, but anything with lots of movement is great!"

"Oh, uhm, I used to do a l-lot of ballet and hip hop too. My f-favourite was modern though. And I've self-taught myself s-s-some other st-stuff."

"Cool! We should do some routines together some time!"

"Ah, y-yeh, th-that would be good!" And for all his stuttering, Izuku actually means that. Since being put into care, he's only ever danced by himself in empty rooms. And that's fun and useful and a stress-reliever, but it would be nice to have somebody to work with for once.

"Hey, why'd you stop though?"

"Ashido, don't be rude," Asui scolds lightly, causing the pink-skinned girl to flush magenta. Huh, cool. And maybe it'll be fine to answer this? They'll find out he's adopted sooner or later, so...

"My- My Mum d-died, and th-the home I was in wouldn't f-fund th-things like th-that."

"Aw, I'm so sorry Mido," Ashido cries, tears building up in her eyes, and Izuku is quick to cut her off,

"N-no, it's fine! I was e-eight anyway, s-so it was a long t-time ago now!"

"Still-!" Ashido starts, but Hagakure nudges her or something, judging by the movement of her shirt, and the girl quietens down. A silence falls over the class, a little awkward, until Izuku gathers the courage to speak once more, managing to shove aside his closing throat and rebellious tongue,

"It really is fine though, I mean, I got adopted and- and I have you guys now, right?" There's an instant round of agreements, all loud and heartfelt, and Izuku blushes a little again. He hadn't expected them to be this enthusiastic about the sentiment. And that flush deepens when, from either side of him, hands oh-so-gently interlace with his own. Dammit, why can't he just control himself better around people his own age? But, they're all being so nice, and he can't really regret being open with them when they're all so kind and fun...

"AAAAAAND we're back folks! Please welcome to the stage, teams Bakugou and Yaoyoruzu! These little listeners are a powerful bunch - seven are from 1-A, with some pretty versatile Quirks, along with the mad genius from support, Hatsume Mei! Together they're all bound to give us a good show, don't you think Eraserhead?" Izuku, and several of his classmates, laugh aloud when their homeroom teacher merely grunts in return. He seems even more low-energy compared to Present Mic. Still though, it doesn't put the voice hero off as he goes on,

"You all heard the rules last time, and nothing's changed little listeners, so Imma hand over to my lovely colleague Midnight!"

"Aw, thanks darling! Ready kiddies? Three, two, one - FIGHT!" And with another crack of her whip they're off. Yaoyoruzu is passing something - long rubber gloves? - to Iida, who pulls them on, almost up to his shoulders, revving his engines, scoops up Kaminari and is gone, headed straight past the charging Bakugou and Sero (the latter has a jetpack? something of Hatsume's no doubt) to target Kirishima and Hatsume who, whilst also running forwards, don't have the speed or maneouvrability of their two teammates. Iida races up to Hatsume and, despite their speed, Izuku can clearly make out the sparks that the blond is starting to give off and, as they approach the inventor, Kaminari reaches out and zaps her. The rubber gloves prevent the current jumping to Iida, who stops a little ways past the girl to deposit Kaminari and then turns back to face Kirishima, who in turn has halted his run to turn and help Hatsume. After all, several of her gadgets are sparking and smoking and she's shedding them with a pout. But Iida intercepts Kirishima, racing over to deliver a powerful kick to the hardened boy's chest. The redhead blocks. His feet leave shallow gouges in the concrete floor though, as he's forced to skid back a good half a metre. Iida, upon landing, goes in for another kick. This time, Kirishima manages to grab onto his ankle and attempts to throw him out of bounds. But momentum works against him and both boys stumble, disengaging, hesitating as they observe the other.

Meanwhile, Bakugou and Sero - the former screaming a distinctive 'DIEEEEE!' - are both heading straight for Yaoyoruzu and Ururaka. But, the girls are clearly prepared as, already, the taller has been creating what looks like a weighted chainlink net - not entirely unlike the one Izuku had made use of in the second round - and Ururaka is busy activating her Quirk on the weights before the two girls easily launch it up into the air, headed straight for their opponents. Bakugou, despite his impressive battle instincts, only manages to fire off a relatively weak blast at the net, hands having been preoccupied with keeping him in the air, and with Ururaka releasing her Quirk, the last second response isn't enough to keep the net from immediately dragging him down, snapping and snarling. Sero, with his limbs free to react, manages to pretty much dodge the net, although his side does get clipped by the weights, and he sends some tape straight at Yaoyoruzu. It latches on to her waist and arm, causing her to yelp, but as Sero goes to throw her out of bounds, a flash of light sees a knife appear out of the tall girl's skin and she quickly shears straight through the tape.

"Aw man," Sero pouts, but he is quick to send more out, this time in little bursts, clearly focusing on hampering her movements. And actually, it is quite a clever tactic because the more of it that sticks to the girl, the less exposed skin she can use her Quirk with. But, caught up in this, the dark-haired boy completely forgets Ururaka, until the girl is floating up behind him and lashing out with a staff, catching him right in the junction of his neck. And that's Sero knocked out. Ururaka and Yaoyoruzu share brief, vicious grins, before the shorter is releasing her Quirk to drop back to the arena floor, having activated her Quirk on Sero and shoved him towards Midnight, who nods in thanks as she catches the unconscious boy, who almost immediately comes back under gravity's pull.

But of course by now, Bakugou has wrangled his way free of the weighted net, and is advancing on the two girls slowly, teeth bared. Ururaka falls into an unpractised defensive stance - not bad, Izuku notes, considering the distinct lack of hand-to-hand training she's had - whilst Yaoyoruzu is brandishing her staff, returned to her by the brunette.

"I'm gonna fucking beat you two into the ground," the blond growls, and Izuku has to suppress a flinch at the unpleasantly familiar words, even heard from afar. Seeming to realise this, his two best friends tighten their grips on his hands - still gentle, but more grounding, more insistent now. Izuku spares a moment to smile up at each of them. He would sign a thank you, but he can't honestly bring himself to lose the comforting physical contact with them.

"I'd like to see you try, Baka-hoe." And holy shit has Izuku never mentioned that he fucking loves Ururaka? Because that was one of the best things he's ever heard. But now the three combatants are fighting. Ururaka and Yaoyoruzu dart in and out, managing to cover each other pretty well as they try to get in a few solid hits without being blasted completely out of bounds by the explosions. The two of them are wearing him down, even just relying on Quirkless fighting, but Izuku isn't honestly sure it'll be enough. Well, only time will tell.

Meanwhile, the other half of the teams are finishing up. Kaminari, despite being tripped by one of Hatsume's gadgets and then sent flying back by another one, has managed to shock her badly enough that the last of her 'babies' started to smoke. She stops fighting at that point, clearly having showcased her inventions, and tugs the over-Quirked Kaminari out of bounds with her, laughing loudly at his 'wheeee' face. Izuku almost winces in sympathy for the blond. On the other hand, Iida and Kirishima are still going. Judging by the developing bruises Iida sports, Kirishima has gotten a few good hits in. But, by the same token, the gouges in the arena floor show that the redhead hasn't had it easy either. It's like that thing... Immoveable object versus unstoppable force. Snorting at the thought, Izuku forces himself to pay attention as the vice president darts forward once more. But this time is to be the last as, just as he yells 'RECIPRO BURST' and shoots forward at an even greater speed, Kirishima manages to twist into the hit just right so that, when he again grabs ahold of the taller boy's ankle, he is this time able to use his momentum against him, and throw Iida out of bounds. Still, they were both pretty impressive, if you ask Izuku.

"And that's Iida out of bounds! We're down to two versus two here folks! And things are heating up!" Izuku has to forgive the pun, because Mic isn't wrong. Not entirely at least. Because Bakugou, still scowling fiercely, has just rocketed into the air once more, and is now spiralling down towards Ururaka and Yaoyoruzu. The girls, sharing a glance, scatter to either side. But they're not fast enough as Bakugou crashes in between them with a massive explosion, the concussive force cracking the concrete for a decent couple of metre radius and it sends them both flying. Ururaka, unable to catch herself with anything, no doubt aware that making herself weightless would only make it worse, can only tuck and roll as she hits the ground, protecting her head. She's out of bounds. And Yaoyoruzu, also largely unable to use her Quirk thanks to all the tape still stuck to her, can only dig her staff into the ground. It successfully catches into one of the cracks and she holds on, managing to crouch just within bounds. But, as she staggers fully upright, her eyes roll back, and then she's flat on her back, passed out. The fight is over.

"WOOOOOOOWWW! What an amazing showing from our little listeners! After an impressive, hot-blooded fight, I can announce Team Bakugou the winners! Guess what that means folks? You got it - Teams Midoriya and Team Bakugou are going to be facing off in the semi-finals! I hope you're looking forward to it, 'cause I certainly am!"

Oh, shit. Izuku really, really isn't looking forward to it.

So I've been doing some research, and Bakugou's explosions must be primarily concussive rather than heat, right? If only because most things that he explodes (people, ice, rubble etc) don't have a tendency to melt/ignite - they get scorched (so there is still some heat) but, primarily, they just get blown away, implying that pressure/kinetic force is actually the basis of his quirk, not necessarily explosives. (Although I think he definitely scarred Izuku and (with the lack of treatment involved) that would imply temperatures of around 50-70 degreesCelsius) I think pure - or at least fairly pure - nitroglycerin generally ignites into explosions of 5000degrees - which is about 114x the heat that it would take to start properly burning human flesh, not factoring in anything to do with concussive force (although somewhere else said it explodes at 214degrees so now I'm confused, but my point still stands - ah, no, I got it - it explodes at 214 and releases a heat of 5000). As such, he definitely doesn't sweat pure nitroglycerin but probably some kind of chemical compound containing trace nitroglycerin along with other stuff that stabilises his explosions to be more like TNT/dynamite which rarely ignites stuff, just, you know, explodes it. As such, he probably shouldn't be able to melt most stuff with it - unless of course it's actually a case wherein he can manipulate either the actual temperature or, more plausibly but in my opinion still unlikely, control the various concentrations of the different substances in his sweat, nitroglycerin included. 'Cause I was going to have Yaoyoruzu throw sheets of some metal at him that his explosions would melt and then have molten metal in his face until I realised that A) that is fucking brutal and B) his explosions genuinely shouldn't be hot enough to do that to most metals (only Phospherus, 'cause we're not counting the weird little outlier of mercury) so uh yeh we cancelled that (although I'm still kinda in love with the basic idea itself, even if it is a bit extreme for a Sports Festival fight).

Also, Bakugou should be incredibly weak to ice, and even just to a chilly day, as nitroglycerin actually freezes at 13 degreesCelsius, which isn't really all that cold (I think it's around 50 degrees Farenheit?) - this only further supports the whole 'nitroglycerin based compound sweat' as other chemicals being bonded to the nitroglycerin could lower its freezing point to something more resistant, but it probably also depends on how Bakugou actually ignites his sweat, as the method might bypass the freezing point issue. I don't really know...

Ah, sorry for the random Quirk Science (TM) rant, but eh. I wanted to share my findings!

Chapter Text

Leaving their waiting room, Izuku yet again finds himself in between his two taller friends. All three of them have sombre expressions, but there is an eagerness there that would be hard to miss. This fight is going to be difficult. Incredibly so. But Izuku can't deny that some part of him is relishing in his own fear; he's terrified of Bakugou in a way that's hard to explain, and yet he wants to fight the blond. He wants - needs - to prove to himself that he is worthy, that he can protect himself and others. And what better way to do that than fighting his eternal tormentor? Kami, he needs therapy.

His bitter bark of laughter at that thought earns him matching raised eyebrows from Toshi and Shou. He smiles a little in return,

"We all need therapy."

"You said it," Hitoshi deadpans, and all three of them laugh a little more at that. But then they reach the end of the tunnel, a single step until they're in the light, and they all pause. Deep breath in. Let go of each others' hands. And then, as one, they step forward, out of the shadows, to the riotous cheers and chanting of the crowd, sunlight blinding, Present Mic's voice ringing out over the din,

"And here we have our terrifying trio of 1-A! These boys have fought hard and fast, showing great skills both with and without obvious Quirks, and even better skills in hand-to-hand! Buuuuuut, will it be enough to best the tempestuous team of four that they're facing? I don't know folks, this could go either way!" And Present Mic is right, this really could go either way. But Izuku, Hitoshi and Shouto have a plan, several in facts, and are confident in both themselves and each other. They will be fine, they will. And they'll win. No matter what, they're going to win, Izuku is sure of it.

But then he sees Bakugou on the opposite side of the arena and, for a long, long moment, his heart stops, stutters, dies and restarts within a second. And he allows the beginnings of a Cheshire grin to cross his face. Glancing down at their friend, Shouto and Hitoshi are glad to see the expression emerging. It bodes well.

"You all know the rules kiddies," Midnight calls. Present Mic must have finished his own spiel.

"Three, two, one - FIGHT!" In a second, ice bursts forth across the arena. It covers almost every inch in a thin, reflective cover of highly slippery ice, but it is the pathways that he creates that are the true aim. Four towering walls spring up, smooth-sided, forming two distinct passageways across the arena, floors ice-free, Hitoshi and Izuku already sprinting down one each. They force the other team to either waste energy breaking down the thick walls or to funnel down the paths. And it has the added bonus of making the other team, all four of them, falter for a long few seconds, uncertain. The terrain has completely changed. And when Bakugou charges forwards, headed for Izuku's tunnel and beginning to explode it into chunks, Sero is swinging over the ice field towards Shouto, whilst Hatsume and Kirishima targeted Hitoshi's tunnel, using their Quirks and some kind of concussive gadget to open up their end of that tunnel, all three of the team begin to smile, unable to help themselves, because they had expected no different.

Hitoshi, rapidly approaching his opponents, is quick to call out,

"You call that an invention? Kind of pathetic, isn't it?" Hatsume, even as Kirishima tries to warn her, immediately retorts,

"Huh?! Can't you see the magnificence of my wonderful babies?!" And then she freezes, limbs going lax, standing with a vacant look in those piercing yellow eyes.

"Cross the arena borders, then remotely disable any of your teammates' gadgets." The girl complies, eyes still vacant, some kind of grips on her shoes apparently keeping her from falling on the ice, but before Kirishima can go after her to try and knock her out of Hitoshi's control, the insomniac is darting forwards, lashing out with a kick that catches the redhead off-guard and thus only halfway Hardened. Accordingly, Kirishima stumbles, falling to one knee, his cheekbone already reddening - ironically enough - with a guaranteed bruise. Shinsou smirks down at him, playing up an admittedly malignant aura, taunting,

"Bit slow, weren't you? Not very manly." His eyes gleam as the shark-toothed boy opens his mouth to reply, own eyes blazing, but just as abruptly Kirshima snaps his mouth shut again. Damn, Hitoshi would not like to get his fingers caught in between those teeth.

"And Hatsume Mei has left the arena! That puts the little listeners in a three-on-three fight folks! But who will be the next to go down?" And damn, Mic really is hyping the crowd up as they whoop and cheer. Hitoshi can only grin further. So far, so good. 

Meanwhile, Shouto has created himself a little platform of ice. Well, not quite so little at around five metres above the ground, allowing him to see down the length of his passages, ensuring that neither Hitoshi nor Izuku need back-up. Plus, it makes it harder to reach for Sero, who they had assumed would come after him, considering the manoeuvrability of his Quirk. Izuku hadn't been wrong. Nor had he been wrong to say that it was easy for Shouto to send two spikes of ice, ends blunted to prevent any accidental stabbings, straight at the brunette who was swinging himself right up to Shouto's platform, tape catching onto the ice structure quite easily. But, as soon as those icicles came into contact with Sero, they veritably exploded, their sudden increase in mass counteracting the boy's momentum, the intense cold jamming up his elbows even as the ice physically encased both of his arms, leaving him to hang in the air, suspended by the mass of ice that was already creaking and splintering. And when it breaks, there is a ramp to catch him, sending Sero skittering all the way back across the arena, sliding on the icy floor, until he crosses the borders.

"And that's Sero out! In a masterful move from our resident ice prince Todoroki Shouto, Team Midoriya has more than evened out the numbers! Better keep watching listeners, 'cause this fight is suuUUUUPER!" But Shouto tunes out the continued announcement as he focuses on Izuku. He and Bakugou have reached each other now, but are merely staring the other down. And the heterochromatic boy has a bad feeling about this.

"Deku, I'm gonna fucking kill you, you know. You haven't fucking died yet, so I guess I'm just gonna have to fucking take your shitty ass down my-fuckin-self."

And something in Izuku whimpers and cowers just at that voice, at the spiteful words that he has heard day in and day out for years - for a decade - and that never fail to wound him, somewhere between his heart and lungs, somewhere that hurts, but the rest of Izuku is roaring and raging with a spine of steel, shadowed eyes and bloody hands. With scars from protecting people. He isn't just the scared, useless, weak little Quirkless kid. He hasn't been for a long time, even if a small part of him will always be a hurt child, because he is more than that now. He has people that love him, and that he loves back. So Izuku doesn't allow his fighting stance to falter. Nor does he flinch when Bakugou flexes his hands, little explosions popping and spluttering. Instead, Izuku stretches his mouth wide, toothy Cheshire grin overtaking his face, and revels in the slight hesitation that comes over the blond. 

Then Izuku lunges. 

Within a blink, he is shooting forwards, bo staff in hand, well ahead of the exploding right hook that comes swinging for him, staff jabbing out to strike the inside of Bakugou's elbow even as Izuku is twisting, tucking his limbs in close as he almost spins himself directly into Bakugou's chest, his knee lashing out at the last second to jab into his opponent's solar plexus and then Izuku is darting away, grin somehow growing at the breathless howl of pain from the blond. In the space of about five seconds, Izuku had-

"Looks like a nasty elbow dislocation there! Midoriya is ruthless as ever, and has clearly targeted Bakugou to prevent him using his Quirk! What do you think Eraserhead? Was that a good move, or too dirty?"

"I think that it was a perfectly logical move. Unlike a dislocated shoulder, an elbow is far trickier to put back into place yourself, particularly halfway through a fight. And disabling the Quirk of an enemy, particularly someone who is reliant upon a strong one like Bakugou, is the ideal tactic and one that will prevent the most collateral damage in a real life scenario."

"You would know Eraser!" The main announcer cackles, the sound reverberating around the stadium, and Izuku can't help but snigger a little. And if his heart swells a little with the - to him at least - blatant pride from his Dad, well, can you blame him? Unfortunately though, Bakugou has clearly registered both Izuku's amusement and the commentary, and his pained scowl has morphed into an utterly furious one.

"Fucking Deku - DIIIIIEEEEEE!" he screams, and Izuku is dodging backwards, avoiding explosions from the blond's left arm, his right hanging fairly lax at his side. And Izuku is fine, he's doing well, not taking a single hit, until one explosion just gets too close to his face. The heat and concussive force send him stumbling back, eyes blurring with overlapping images, too many explosions over too many years doing too much damage, and it's all he can do ricochet himself up and over the passageway walls, landing steadily on the icy floor of the open arena area, breathing beginning to hitch. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He can't- a panic attack right now would be so fucking awful- why did that have to- fucking hell-  He can still hear Bakugou screaming through the metre-thick ice wall, but Izuku simply focuses on breathing, admittedly still retaining a fighting stance, watching the warped flashes of yellow-red light through the ice, vaguely registering that Shouto is sliding down Sero's ramp from earlier, headed towards Izuku. Presumably, Hitoshi is still fighting Kirishima then...

And indeed he is. The two have been exchanging blows for a good minute or two already. Or rather, Kirishima has been charging forwards, swiping at the insomniac, a few punches clipping the taller boy, but nothing landing solidly. Good, in Hitoshi's opinion, because he can admit to himself that a full-on hit from a hardened Kirishima would have a good chance of putting him out of commission. And when Izuku was fighting Bakugou, there was no way that he could afford to be out of the round. Regardless, Hitoshi had been ducking and weaving around the redhead's attacks, and getting in a few kicks of his own. They weren't doing a lot, but he couldn't afford to punch the other boy and bust his knuckles up, so kicks it was. So whilst Hitoshi certainly isn't losing, he isn't winning either. Dammit, he needs to do something... Ah, that should work. A truly Izuku-idea.

As Kirishima swings out another punch, Hitoshi deliberately leaps high, barely managing to get above the strike that shatters the already-damaged ice wall backing onto the main arena, and the insomniac kicks Kirishima in the nose, using the force of his own hit to tumble backwards, out of the passageway, and skids and slides on the ice floor without falling, eventually regaining enough balance to veritably skate away, heading straight for where he noticed Izuku and Shouto out of the corner of his eye.

"Peppermint - ice him!" And even with the spontaneous nickname, Shouto spins to face them and sends a wave of ice straight at Kirishima, who has only just begun to follow Hitoshi. Instantly, the redhead is encased up to the neck in thick ice, trapping him closely enough to prevent any movement. And with no movement, he won't gather enough force to break out.

"And Kirishima has been iced over folks! Looks like our favourite redhead isn't getting out of that mini-glacier any time soon! And that puts Team Bakugou at one against three! Is there any way for the most explosive student in these halls to win?"

But what neither Shouto nor Hitoshi have noticed, between attacking Kirishima and the din of Present Mic and the crowd, is that the ice behind them is also shattering. And Bakugou is rocketing straight for Izuku.

"DIIIIEEEEEE!" The two boys spin, but it's already too late. Izuku, still half-caught in memories and panic, barely reacts when an exploding palm is shoved right at his head and he is catapulted back several metres, landing in a rough skid on the icy floor, silent, yet the blood dripping from his face is all too telling.

"Izuku!" Two voices cry out, more than alarmed, completely unaware of Mic's crowing commentary, as they rush to their friend's side, blatantly ignoring the blond boy who is panting, smile vicious, in front of a mound of shattered ice.

"Izuku, green bean, you're okay, Kami, you're gonna be okay," Hitoshi murmurs, sounding panicked even to his own ears as he and Shouto help their friend to his wobbly feet.

"You really fuckin' thought you could stand up to me, shitty Deku bastard? Well that'll show you!"  And Bakugou's growl has both Shouto and Hitoshi snapping round to face him. Little flickers of ice and flame begin to crackle through the air and Hitoshi lets go of Izuku.

"You're weak, Kaachan," the insomniac taunts. And...

"HAAAAHHHH?! I just bea-" Success.

"Stay still."

The two boys stalk forwards, side by side, cats prowling towards vulnerable prey. Behind them, Izuku is stood, breaths hitching, footing uncertain, but blearily watching on all the same as Hitoshi and Shouto approach his tormentor. They don't hesitate as they share a satisfied smirk and, in perfect tandem, punch Bakugou, one hitting him in the throat, one in the nose, utterly unable to deny themselves the vindictive joy of seeing him choke, nose broken, jerking back and spluttering, cradling his injuries with his one working hand. Still moving in sync, they take seven immaculate steps back until they are flanking Izuku, although still slightly in front of him. Protective. From the corners of their eyes, they watch as their partner fully regains a steady footing and smiles through the burn and blood as he briefly squeezes their shoulders.

"And in perfect harmony, Shinsou and Todoroki have defended their teammate! What a beautiful scene, don't you think Eraserhead?" But Izuku is paying zero attention to his Dad's response - doubtless only a grunt - as he moves forwards, beyond his friends, and falls into an easy fighting stance, waiting for Bakugou to focus back on him. He can do this. With Toshi and Shou at his back, his Dad always close, he knows he can do this. It's been a long time coming after all.

"You- you useless fucking shit, I- I'm gonna wipe the fuckin'- fuckin' floor with you," Bakugou grinds out, faltering as his throat gives out, already beginning to bruise, and blood from his nose catches in his mouth. Toshi and Shou really did a number on him. It makes facing him a lot less terrifying; this is not the same as their younger years, and it never will be again. Izuku is sure of that.

Still though, Izuku takes a moment to assess himself before Bakugou can attack. He's sore all over, his back is all scratched up, and he can't see out of his right eye. Ringing thunders through his head and he can barely hear. No doubt that entire side of his head is burnt and bloody, but it just feels numb. His balance is a bit off too. Oh, and his staff is on the floor beside him. Okay, he can work with this. Pointedly, he kicks his staff gently behind him, to Hitoshi's feet, who picks it up as he and Shouto back away some. His friend doesn't question him though. Good.

And then, before he can freak out, Izuku shifts his stance as though in pain, inviting an attack. Bakugou indulges him, immediately rushing forwards, left hand poised to strike. And he's aiming for the gap in Izuku's defence, at his ribs, too caught up in rage to register that the opening is very, very intentional. As the exploding palm extends towards Izuku's side, the greenette's knees flex, before he easily kicks up and off of the ice floor, nary a slip or slide, and flips straight over mid-air, bringing down a devastating axe-kick to the blond's neck. And then Bakugou is unconscious, prone on the floor, Izuku landing neatly on his back. Holy shit, he just took out Bakugou-

"AAANND that is it  folks! Team Midoriya, with an absolutely epic final takedown, have won the semi-finals! What a truly stunning display of tenacity and support from their team! Despite starting with less members, they were utterly relentless and with a combination of strategy and raw skill, have secured their places as Sports Festival finalists! These little listeners are ones to watch, y'all! Now, as they all get seen to and the arena gets cleaned up, let's enjoy some of the most awesome moments again, hey Eraser?" But Aizawa doesn't reply. He's already headed to the arena's infirmary. He's got a brat to check on after all.

A quick strategy explanation: one of Bakugou's teams greatest advantages is their maneouvrability, so our boys needed to limit that and force some hand-to-hand combat, where Toshi and Izu do best. And to do that, they created two hallways extending about 3/4 across the arena, each about four metres wide, walls about a metre thick, with pretty much no ice on the floor. This gives enough room for Izuku and Hitoshi to dodge and move around, but still limits their opponents' movements. They knew that Bakugou would go after Izuku, and from there they could roughly predict that Sero would avoid the passages given a choice - hence Shouto staying out in the open. Additionally, as the only truly long-range fighter in their team, it was important to keep Shouto's actions flexible, hence hanging back on a platform of his own until some of their opponents had been taken out and Izuku needed help. Thus, he was able to deal with Sero, who followed Izuku's predictions pretty much perfectly, and was prepared to send more ice wherever it might need to be.

Meanwhile, they figured that neither Kirishima nor Hatsume would probably go into the same tunnel as Bakugou - Hatsume because she wants to shine by herself, to show her babies off, not be overshadowed by the blond, whilst Kirishima would be doing the noble thing of letting Bakugou fight his own battle whilst backing him up from the sidelines (god, Kiri is adorable, I feel bad for literally beating him up in this!) by focusing on Hitoshi. And having observed how talkative Hatsume is, our boys knew that it should be fairly easy for Toshi to take her out quickly. And he should be able to hold his own Kirishima for a little while, until he manages to take him out or Izuku or Shouto can back him up - as Shouto did.

The last bit was far from planned though. Instead of a quick takedown or getting Shouto to blast Bakugou out of bounds... well, Izuku knew he might fall into the beginnings of a PTSD episode (no, he didn't tell the others that, he didn't want them to worry or try to change the plans), but he genuinely thought that he would push straight through it and just be fine - basically he underestimated his own trauma (which was kinda very dumb but considering his self-esteem, far from surprising - the darling needs some cuddles and therapy if you ask me). And it took blatant support from his friends to get him back on track. But it all turned out alright, so! A win in their books - literally. Dadzawa might not be too happy though...

Chapter Text

"Aizawa Izuku, I never know if you are the cleverest or dumbest person I know but right now I am leaning heavily towards the latter," Aizawa says, almost the moment he's burst into the infirmary, all quick movements and silent feet, and can see that only Izuku and his friends are conscious. And fuck, he's furious. Livid, actually. Yet still signing along with himself, clearly aware of the bandages over Izuku's right ear.

"You deliberately chose, despite knowing full-well how you react to explosions, to put yourself in a dangerous position that was triggering for you when I couldn't help you." And oh, that was what this was about. Whoops?

'Sorry Dad, but I needed to do it.'

"Kid, I get that, I do, but couldn't you have waited until it was a more controlled environment? You know I would have facilitated it, when we agreed that you were ready."

'I- yeh, but it just felt right I guess. Never waste an opportunity, right?'

"Don't twist my words back onto me, Problem Child. You're such a little shit, I swear." But despite the seemingly harsh words, Aizawa still moves to carefully sit on the edge of his kid's bed, a gentle hand coming up to cradle a freckled left cheek, tilting Izuku's head until the man can see the red areas of skin peeking out around the edges of the bandages, hair singed and short.

"That was a nasty hit, huh kiddo?" Izuku merely closes his eyes, nuzzling into that warm rough, palm. Aizawa lets out a little sigh, somewhere between fond and exasperated, and strokes his thumb soothingly across a delicate cheekbone.

"Take a nap kiddo. I'll make sure you're awake in time for the finals, alright? You've done well. I'm proud." And Izuku doesn't even protest as he's nudged to lay back against the pillows, his Dad's capture weapon carefully deposited around his neck. Then Aizawa stands and draws the curtain, separating Izuku from the rest of the room, including the other team, finding both of his kid's friends staring at him, even if Shinsou at least has the decency to try and be discrete about it.

"I'm not impressed with you two for going along with his idiocy," he begins, tone menacing, and is satisfied to see them both flush a little in embarrassment, fidgeting in their seats, although neither flinch from him - good, the perfect balance.

"But," he goes on, 
"I can see why you did. Not to mention that he's pretty damn persuasive, the brat. So there'll be no punishments this time - for any of you. I expect seeing Izuku like that will be more than enough for all of us; and on that note, I should thank you both for punching Bakugou when I couldn't." And if Aizawa lets his Cheshire grin out a little with that, neither of the teens are going to tell on him. Particularly when they're smirking too. Kami, punching Bakugou had felt so good, and it was made even better when Izuku had re-gathered his strength and knocked the blond out himself.

"Now, I need to speak to Recovery Girl. If I'm not back over here in half an hour, then wake Izuku up and get him to leave my catpure scarf with the nurse. Your match is in about forty minutes." The two give deep nods in lieu of bows as their sensei leaves the bed areas, pulling the large curtain shut behind him, and moves over to Recovery Girl's desk by the door, out of clear earshot.

"Chiyo, how bad was it?"

"It wasn't good Shouta, I'll be honest. Far from the worst burn he's had, but still a nasty one all the same. I was able to treat it quickly enough that it shouldn't scar, fortunately, although he's lost some hair and for now everything is only half-healed; he was adamant that he was going to fight in the finals, which hardly surprised me, hence the bandages. Regardless of my treatments, he should keep the bandages on for at least another 24-hours, understood? And you'll want to do something with his hair afterwards. Professional, preferably."

"And his vision?" If there was anything that Aizawa knew was important, it was eyesight.

"His pupils are still responding correctly - most of the detonation itself affected the side of his head, so he'll be light-sensitive for a little while, you'll need to watch out for migraines, and his eardrum was perforated, which I focused most of my healing on, but otherwise he really should be fine, physically. And if he's not too exhausted after the final, I'll have another session with him." 

"Right. Thank you Chiyo," Aizawa breathes, slumping further into the wall, one hand coming up to cover his face, missing the constant weight and ability to hide his expressions in his capture weapon. But it helps Izuku sleep, so...

"You're always welcome Shouta, you know that. You're both very lucky."

"You're telling me," he huffs. Because for all that his brat can be an imbecile sometimes, Aizawa knows he is incredibly blessed to finally be sharing his home with his Problem Child, after nearly three years of having spent patrols with the teen. And whilst it was absolutely bloody awful to have to sit in that announcer's booth, ignoring Hizashi's concerned glances and fighting the urge to just break the glass - fuck if he cared that it was bulletproof, he'd have managed - and jump straight into the arena to kick Bakugou into the fucking sun for the trauma Izuku had suffered, it had still been ridiculously satisfying to watch Izuku stand back up and trick the blond into a foolish attack before easily dispatching him in one seamless move. And all with a serious head wound. Kami, his kid...

"Right. I'll go sit with him, if you don't mind."

"Of course not Shouta. It's just good to see you boys looking after each other; warms my poor old heart."

"You'll go on long beyond any of us Chiyo."

"And you'd better remember that." But despite the chiding words, Recovery Girl's tone is undeniably fond. She's spent nearly twenty years patching him up after all, and a good two helping Izuku, trusting Shouta enough to leave the brat's mask on every time. They're very fortunate to have her Quirk and wisdom at their disposal. Not to mention her common sense. Huh, he'd have to remember to get her a fruits basket or something, maybe even one of those fancy alcohol hampers, she did like good quality sake after all. And whiskey. At this point she definitely deserved something...

Slipping back past the main curtain, Aizawa offers a brief nod to the quietly conversing Shinsou and Todoroki, but heads straight back to Izuku, pulling his sleeping bag out of nowhere to settle against the wall. There aren't any visitors chairs, but he's sat in worst places before. With a sigh, he pulls out his phone and begins to check back over Nedzu's proposed schedule changes for Izuku, post the Sports Festival. He doesn't trust 'Tactics and Analysis'. It has a very ominous ring to it, considering just how good Izuku already is at dissecting Quirks and, to a lesser but still significant degree, people; being taught by Nedzu will only strengthen that and as brilliant as that will be for Izuku, Aizawa can already feel a headache coming on for the inevitable chaos. Izuku is already a brat. It's definitely going to get worse... Not to mention that Hizashi will probably be pouting for weeks over losing all bar one of his English lessons with the kid. And having to come in half an hour earlier for Nedzu to give Izuku tasks to complete during regular staff meetings won't necessarily be a bad thing, but ugh... It's a lot of effort. Still, it's for his kid's progress, so there's no way he wouldn't go along with his rat bastard of an employer. Although-

"Aizawa?" A quiet voice calls, a familiar head of dark hair poking around the curtain.

"Tsukauchi, hey. I'll join you," he offers, jerking his chin towards to Izuku's sleeping form. The detective nods, retreating, and, after checking over his Problem Child once more, Aizawa abandons his sleeping bag to join his friend.

"He's doing well."

"He is," Aizawa allows, and barely manages to restrain the smile that threatens to twitch at his lips; judging by the gleam in Tsukauchi's eyes, he notices. Kami, why does he bother having friends?

"And I suppose he's largely alright? It looked like a nasty hit, but it's pretty much the only one he's taken the whole tournament."

"Perforated ear drum was more or less the worst of it, although Chiyo healed that right up. Bandages for a day or so. No more scars."

"Good to hear then, overall." They sit in comfortable silence for a long few seconds, both caught in thoughts of Izuku taking far worse injuries in the past.

"That blond kid is the main bully, huh? Bakugou Katsuki."

"Yes," Aizawa replies, curt, a fierce scowl suddenly in place,
"If I couldn't see the improvements that Bakugou's making in every area but those directly relating to Izuku, he'd have been out from the first day. His anger therapy has been helping," he sighs, "Unfortunately." The dark mutter doesn't go unheard by the detective, who looks caught between agreeing and admonishing him.

"He's only a child, I suppose."

"That's what Izuku said the one time I asked him about it. Clammed right up afterwards though."

"Hm. Difficult situation."

"You don't say. But I can keep them separated day to day, so for now it has to do. And I'm getting around to finding Izuku a couple of therapists to try talking to, once he's ready. And when we've got the time," the hero confides, and Tsukauchi nods in concurrence.

"Good. He needs it."

"They all do. There's a reason this class has actual potential, and it's not their Quirks." The shorter man hums quietly at that, then shakes his head and visibly brightens a little,

"Well, they've got about twenty-five, thirty minutes before they're back on. Do you want some company?"

"I'm fine, got some emails to answer. See you Saturday?" Their schedules always overlap then.

"Saturday," Tsukauchi promises with a smile, then leaves. Aizawa doesn't hesitate to return straight to his sleeping bag at Izuku's bedside. The kid will be glad to know that Tsukauchi bothered to visit him at least, little things like that never cease to amaze him.

For some reason, I never actually knew/looked up UA's schedules, classes etc? I've just been making it up in my head, and will continue to do so. Hope nobody minds! So that stuff makes sense, here's an explanation of 'my UA structure', if you will:

(please ignore the typos - what is combines science??? - I literally put this schedule together in about five/ten minutes whilst eating pizza)

Maths – vi - Ectoplasm

English – vi - Mic

Combined Sciences (Physics/Biology/Chemistry) – vi – Snipe (Biology and Physics) / Thirteen (Physics and Chemistry)

Heroic Ethics & Law – v - Aizawa

Japanese/ Modern Literature – vi - Cementoss

Heroic Art History – v – Midnight (crosses over with literal art and with her history lessons and even elements of ethics, religion, economics etc)

Physical Education – v – whoever, most often Hound Dog, Aizawa or Snipe (physical ed. is often more about building up and maintaining healthy physique, sometimes includes theoretical lessons on nutrition, muscles etc)

Humanities – vi – Midnight/Thirteen (History), Vlad King (Geography)

Heroics - All Might and Aizawa, with other teachers as necessary/appropriate

Core classes have six time-tabled slots, the more specialised heroics-department lessons have five and these are effectively electives which change each school year, albeit they are mandatory. Other departments will have different subjects and other teachers (typically non-heroes, though still experts), e.g. support course will have one for business management, one for advanced physics/mechanics and the third for the laws surrounding support tech and materials (equivalent to zawa’s hero ethics n laws) – management have another ethics/law, plus economics and marketing/media (they specialise further in second/third year such as the canon venture capitalism) – general education have several options to aim towards specific colleges and career paths (e.g. like GCSEs/A-Levels in UK or electives (??) in the US) such as economics, fine art, psychology, Chinese, computer science and so on.

Support course has Power Loader and other support experts, some retired inventors, along with the standard gen. course teachers (all highly qualified experts in their fields, but standard teachers all the same) for most core subjects (e.g. their science and maths is taught by their department teachers). Similarly, management have leading economists and even highly-successful marketing campaigners in combination with some standard gen. ed teachers (e.g. maths, english and history by theirs, others by gen.ed). For the gen.ed electives, there are again leading experts in their fields (like university professors, pretty much)

Heroics itself isn't always combat training - first term, there is a focus on team exercises, rescue/first aid and basic hand-to-hand. Second year sees the beginning of specialisations, but still elements of all heroics, with more advanced techniques in every element, including weapons and more experimentation/development of support tech. Third year prioritises specialisation and real-world experience, with guest pros coming to train with specific groups of students and so on.

In essence, UA is, unsurprisingly, incredibly prestigious, even for those in management or general education. The expertise and contacts of teachers across all subjects affords students opportunities for industry experience, specialised talks and cutting-edge research that many other schools would be unable to offer.

Chapter Text

"Izuku, kiddo, you need to wake up now," Aizawa mutters, a gentle hand coming to card through those green curls, carefully staying on the left side of Izuku's head, scrutinising the minute expressions that can be seen despite the bandages as his kid comes round, making sure that he isn't in too much pain. And whilst the teen does groan a little upon opening his eyes, squeezing them tightly shut for a few seconds before trying again, his pupils are reacting properly and there's only a slight grimace twisting at his mouth and brows.

"Da'..."

"Hey there brat. You've got about ten minutes until you need to be up for the fight." The hero doesn't insult him by asking if he feels up to the final round; he knows Izuku is determined to prove himself, to prove that being Quirkless doesn't stop him kicking ass, and dropping out now - even if Aizawa already thought Izuku had done more than enough, was already incredibly proud - would be going back on that, from Izuku's point of view. So Aizawa would just have to support him.

"Mmkay." And within five minutes Izuku is sitting with Hitoshi and Shouto at the entrance to one of the tunnels. They were meant to enter from one each, but they had tacitly agreed that there was no point to that. And, quite frankly, they'd gotten this far together, so they should finish it the same way, even if they were about to be fighting directly against each other. A three-way fight would be fun.

For now though, they sit on the floor together, uncaring of dignity, Izuku's feet rhythmically bumping against their ankles, the silence as comforting as the hands that they hold together in Izuku's lap. Eventually, after what feels like an age, Present Mic's voice comes through the speakers above them,

"Well hello again listeners! Hope you've enjoyed your break and the re-runs of some of the best moments so far! Now, then, the moment we've all been waiting for has arrived!" By this point, the three have made their way to be stood right by the tunnel exit, barely remaining in the shadows. They have yet to let go of each other's hands.

"Please welcome in our three ferocious finalists! It's the Terrifying Trio: Midoriya, Todoroki and Shinsooooooouuuuuu!" And as their names are called, they all step out together, uncaring of the crowd, simply walking in perfect pace with each other until they reach the centre of the arena. Then, all with firm nods and slight smiles for the other two, they break apart, each taking five steps back to form a triangle, ready and waiting. Intent. They don't listen as Mic goes on, or as Midnight speaks, not until those all-important words:

"-three, two, one: FIGHT!"

They don't move. None of them so much as twitch. Then, with a lazy smirk, Hitoshi asks,

"Don't suppose either of you want to answer a question for me, do you?" In lieu of replying, Shouto sends a bludgeon of ice crackling forwards, but Hitoshi dodges it comfortably, darting closer to Izuku. Yet in the next second, he is ducking, stumbling back from a flying knee that comes towards his nose.

"Really green bean? At least avoid the merchandise!" All he gets is more ice, although it manages to separate him from Izuku, who had bounded back a few paces, so there's that to it. But now the ice is uncomfortably close on both sides. Fuck, looks like he'll have to go for a frontal attack.

Shouto isn't surprised when Hitoshi comes racing towards him, violet eyes scanning him and the surrounding area, clearly not forgetting that Izuku has somehow disappeared from view already. Must be behind the ic- A painful jab to his back sends Shouto forward a few paces, ice flaring up all around him in spires, panicked and haphazard. Izuku- But then a flash of movement in front of him has Shouto focusing on the purple-haired insomniac who is already kicking some of the ice stalagmites straight into his face, and he activates just enough of his fire to melt them, but the water and steam blind him to the kick that comes straight for his gut and doubles him over, winded.

"Come on Peppermint, you can do be-!" Shouto is already doling out a punch of his own, still winded but thoroughly used to working through it, and catches Hitoshi straight across the jaw. And then, double-whammy, there is a flash of navy as Izuku takes Hitoshi's legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the floor. Then in a move so flawless it must be practiced, Izuku stomps on Hitoshi's wrist and pivots, gaining the perfect momentum to kick Shouto in the still-exposed armpit, his right shoulder immediately seizing up with the hit, spikes of pain echoing down his arm. Goddamit Izu, he curses internally, sending out a blobby mass of ice to repel the shorter teen because he can barely control it right now. He normally directs his ice with his hand and arm primarily, and the greenette knows it. Took full advantage of it. But at least his last ice attack got Hitoshi's legs, keeping the half-dazed boy frozen solidly to the ground and thus the first to be out of the round.

Apparently Izuku and Shouto register that fact at the same time as they both halt, meeting each other's eyes.

"And it looks like Midoriya and Todoroki have stopped! Gotta wonder why folks!" After a moment, they both nod to one another, although it is Shouto who raises his voice to ask Midnight,

"Can we get Hit- Shinsou out of the way first?" She visibly startles, although the crowd goes absolutely wild and Mic is gushing something about friendship and being true gentlemen or something. Shouto and Izuku just don't want to leave Toshi under the ice for too long.

"I'm sure we can darlings. Just wait a second first though. Shinsou, please confirm that you're unable to escape the ice?"

"Uh, mm, yeh..." he grumbles, half-unconscious and barely aware enough to really be answering. As soon as he's said that, Izuku and Shouto are crouched at his side, the latter awkwardly so with his right arm still pretty much refusing to move, although that doesn't stop him from delicately melting the ice around the purple-haired teen's legs, as Izuku steadies Shouto, all whilst murmuring softly to Hitoshi. Within a minute, Midnight is supporting a woozy Hitoshi off of the arena to some medbots that are waiting by her podium, and the very instant the two have left the actual arena space, Izuku is darting forwards already, a quick foot aimed for the side of Shouto's calf. Pressure points again, really? But Shouto doesn't have time to articulate the thought as he steps back out of the way, sways to avoid a jab for the throat, then lashes out with a flurry of his own kicks, adjusting smoothly, if not entirely easily, to having one arm out of commission. And yet Izuku dodges and deflects them all with a tumbling sequence, back-flipping over one kick, then a second, crouching with crossed arms to block the third, easily bending backwards and flicking his legs up, one deflecting Shouto's fourth kick, the other foot successfully catching under the heterochromatic boy's chin, earning a grunt of pain as he falls back a few paces, stance defensive. He's in pain. In comparison, Izuku doesn't even bother to right himself, easily maintaining the handstand that his uncompleted backbend has left him in, spinning one hundred and eighty degrees on one hand to be looking at his opponent.

Then, before Shouto can even think to use his ice again, too busy with 'what the actual fuck Izu', the greenette falls neatly out of the handstand, oscillating into a low sweeping kick that picks up various bits of ice debris and sends them hurtling towards Shouto. The taller flinches back, sweeping out with his left arm to melt them, knowing that he fell for this once with Hitoshi but not knowing what else to do. And yet there is no blow to his back. Wha-

Then there's a shadow above him and Shouto desperately throws a hand up, but it's nothing to Izuku who twists in mid-air, contorting immaculately past the move, and still manages to grab ahold of the limb and yank Shouto down, slamming him down to the floor, Izuku somehow landing on top of him, crouched on the balls of his feet, flexible boots digging into the taller's collar bones, a vicious grin in place, framed by bandages, scars and freckles, and holy shit this boy is hot. Dazed and breathless (not entirely from the combat, he can admit) Shouto can only slump against the ground. And when an elbow smashes into his temple, he can only smile. Second place to Izuku isn't a bad place to be at all.

Twenty minutes later, coming to in the infirmary, Shouto is privy to the delightful sight of Hitoshi and Izuku curled against each other on the next bed over, both sat up to face him, but the greenette comfortably tucked under a long arm.

"Hey Peppermint."

"Hito. Izu," he greets in return, then flushes slightly upon remembering how Izuku had been crouched on his chest with those glowing green eyes and Kami above, did that really happen?

"You lucky bastard," Hitoshi says with a salacious smirk, and whilst Izuku makes a confused noise, Shouto knows that Hitoshi was thinking of exactly the same thing that he himself was. 

"You don't say," he mutters, and starts to push himself up. His shoulder flares in pain, and Izuku is quick to be stood and nudging him to lay back down.

"I- I, uhm, went a bit too far Shou, so you're gonna have to be really careful of that shoulder, okay?"

"Okay?" he replies, a bit dumbfounded. Izuku rushes to go on,

"I'm really, really sorry Shou! I wasn't thinking! My depth perception's wacky as fuck right now, I was relying on muscle memory alone to be honest," Izuku confesses, tone ending up somewhere around sheepish. Shouto and Hitoshi can only stare in disbelief.

"Wait, that was just on instinct alone? The whole fight?"

"Pretty much yeh. Couldn't think up a strategy with my head killing me."

"Why didn't you get some painkillers you idiot?" Hitoshi scolds, immediately zeroing in on their friend failing to take care of himself yet again.

"They make you woozy. That would have been worse in a fight, particularly against you two!"

"Green bean..." Hitoshi sighs, sharing an exasperated glance with Shouto. Because that's true, in a way, but that doesn't make it any better and it certainly doesn't mean that they have to like it. Their friend is an idiot sometimes.

"I suppose it doesn't matter right now, so long as Recovery Girl at least gave you something after our fight, didn't she?" And there's definitely a threatening note to Hitoshi's question. Good, in Shouto's opinion. Izuku needs a bit of help in taking care of himself, particularly when Aizawa-sensei isn't around to do so.

"Yeh, some ibuprofen for now. And she'll finish healing me up after the ceremony, if I'm not too tired."

"Right. Okay. I'll got tell her that Shouto's awake too now, so they can do the closing ceremonies." As Hitoshi leaves, Izuku rounds on Shouto once more, wringing his hands nervously.

"I really am sorry Shouto. I can't believe I did that! Normally I know not to hit anyone bu- anyone in certain places, but I really was working half off of muscle memory and now you're hurt and you'll probably need at least a couple of rounds of physiotherapy - although maybe not with Recovery Girl I'm not sure - and it's all my fault and Kami Shou I'm really so-"

"You're sorry Izu, I get it, but it's fine." When Izuku stares sceptically at him, clearly not believing a word, Shouto goes on,
"It was a fight, I was expecting to get hurt. And I'd rather it was you or Hitoshi than anyone else because at least then I know that it's only because of the fight, the circumstances, not something else."

"I- Okay. At least let me help you up?" And even if he'd wanted to, there was no way the heterochromatic boy would have been able to resist those eyes. And so, after a nod of confirmation, Shouto finds himself being supported by Izuku as he pushes himself up with his left arm, and then he's sat up and can easily swing his legs off of the bed and stand up. Fortunately, he's not too light-headed, and he doesn't even need Izuku's help to walk out of the bed area to find Hitoshi awkwardly waiting for Recovery Girl to finish speaking with what sounds like Aizawa. Oh, so that they can get ready for the awards ceremony. Fun.

Actually, it's not too bad. The three of them easily make their way back to the arena along what is already a very familiar set of corridors. All of them are sporting some bandages, and Hitoshi has a limp that's definitely not as bad as Shouto's numb arm that probably should be painful, but apparently the nurse had given him some low level painkillers for now. But still, despite or perhaps because of their obvious war wounds, the three proudly enter the stadium to a deafening round of cheers and take the steps onto their individual section of podium, Present Mic yelling out,

"And here you go folks! The culmination of UA's First Year Sports Festival! Across a day of clever tactics, stunning Quirks and killer moves, these three little listeners have risen to the top of the bunch with incredible skills! All Might, take it away!" And then the blond hero comes hurtling down into the arena, sticking a heroic landing, before virtually bounding over to Shinsou, a bronze medal and broad smile on show.

"Thank you Present Mic! In third place, we have Shinsou Hitoshi of 1-A; a truly brilliant job my boy, and masterful use of both your Quirk and hand to hand training! Congratulations!" And the number one hero loops the model over Hitoshi's head and then pulls the boy in for an abrupt hug, to which he squirms for a moment, arms trapped by his side, but then sags against the muscles, resigned, and half-heartedly pats what he can reach of the man's back. Then All Might is gone, instead standing in front of Shouto, offering that same grin.

"And in second, Todoroki Shouto, also of 1-A! You used your Quirk with great skill and didn't back down when things were tough! Well done my boy - congratulations!" And yet another medal and awkward hug ensues. Although, kudos to the man, he is very careful of Shouto's shoulder and arm. Then All Might stands before Izuku, who isn't quite sure what to do. This man had tried to deny him his goals, if with honest intentions, and yes, he was still a good person overall, and Izuku wouldn't deny one of the best heroes to have ever been known. And yet he can't make himself smile. Still, All Might doesn't seem put off, only bowing a little to the greenette, voice booming,

"The truly worthy first place winner is Midoriya Izuku of 1-A! With astounding technique, keen intelligence and a genuinely heroic heart, you have done everybody proud my boy. Congratulations!" And when he places that heavy gold metal around Izuku's neck and brings him in for a deliberately gentle hug, Izuku suddenly registers that the man's words sound like as much of an apology as they do a well done, at least to him. Maybe... maybe All Might was really saying-

"You will make a great hero my boy!" And then All Might is turning away, talking to the crowd, although Izuku doesn't take a word of it in. Because All Might had just announced that he thought Izuku - Quirkless little Izuku - was going to be a hero, Quirk or not. And a great one at that.

Once upon a time, if he hadn't already received support and comfort and love from his Dad, that knowledge would have sent Izuku to his knees in tears. Once, before coming to UA and making friends, surviving a villain attack with his classmates, he would have latched onto that one admission alone. But Izuku, hardened from years of hardship and vigilantism, softened by a father and good friends, merely accepts All Might's apology and encouragement with a vague smile and a warm heart. He doesn't need the acknowledgement, but it's nice to have. All the same, there is something that he's really waiting to hear. Something he needs above all else. And he won't get it on this podium.

An hour later, as everybody is piling back into their classrooms, Aizawa silently pulls Izuku aside, guiding him to an empty side corridor.

"I was meant to wait until we got home, but I couldn't be bothered to wait-"  couldn't bare to wait, then  "-to say that I'm proud of you kiddo. You did everything you set out to do and more. You proved yourself. Good job kid." And it's that, those words are what Izuku had been craving, and with the faintest of sobs, the teen crashes into his Dad's chest, feeling arms curl around him and keep him close. He inhales, breathing in the comforting scent of home, and calms down quickly. But he still doesn't pull away. Not until Aizawa finally mutters,

"We'd better go before your classmates get curious and send out a gossip-party. A search-party. Whatever, all the same with that lot."  The greenette snickers and steps back without complaint, darting ahead of his Dad to find Toshi and Shou leaning on the wall outside their classroom, waiting for him, and with a grin as wide as he can manage past the bandages, he heads into class with them. And when they walk past Bakugou, Shou and Toshi flanking Izuku as usual, the shorter doesn't even feel the need to cringe away in the slightest. He's proved, once and for all, that he's stronger than the blond, even if it still won't always feel like it. Because he knows it for a fact now.

"Right hellspawn, settle down," Aizawa drawls out as he enters the room, "First things first, good job today. Whilst some of you were undoubtedly reckless and pushed yourselves too far, it was a decent showing. From this, there will be internship offers - it was technically the whole point of the event, as you should remember. Many of you will be getting offers, some likely more so than others, but know both that it doesn't necessarily reflect your skill levels and that the school will be organising suitable agencies and heroes for those of you who need it. It's often a finicky thing, so don't take too much from it either way." And that is probably the closest to congratulations and reassurance the class is going to get. Most of them smile at it anyway.

"Regardless. You all have the next two days off, plus the full weekend, to rest and recuperate. Keep training to a minimum, understood? If you're bored, do some homework or something. Watch the second and third year sports festivals. Any of you still due treatment sessions with Recovery Girl had better attend them, or risk expulsion. I won't keep students who fail to look after themselves. Dismissed." And with that abrupt end, the class is free to go. All the same, most of them linger for a while, chattering, speculating on internships or weekend plans. Izuku, Hitoshi and Shouto, after accepting the initial round of 'well done!'s and 'so cool!'s, intend to leave, but get caught up. Izuku manages brief, stuttered conversations with Kirishima, Tokoyami, Yaoyorozu and Asui, a small smile on his face, whilst both Shouto and Hitoshi do the same with various others. It seems like the day has managed to endear them further to the class, who had already liked them a - in their opinion - weird amount considering how few interactions they had day-to-day. It was nice though. To feel accepted, to be a part of the class, was something unfamiliar but, as of yet, definitely not a bad thing either.

Well, Izuku thinks later, leaving with Toshi and Shou to either side, gently bumping shoulders with every other step, today has been a pretty good day in the end.

Chapter Text

Aizawa slumps into the flat, struggling not to bump his messenger bag and therefore laptop or, the more concerning option, his kid's head on the door frame as he shuffles in sideways, glad that the cats aren't interested in escaping, and gently kicks the door shut behind him. The cats are instantly swarming around his legs, although they mercifully keep quiet. Perceptive weirdos. Doesn't stop them from trying to trip him up as they wind in between his ankles with every step, and he resists the urge to mutter curses at them when he nearly falls flat on his face at least twice. They're lucky that they're cute and Izuku likes them. Adores them. Whatever. Speaking of the brat, bedroom or sofa? Well, it'll be easier to keep an eye on him if he's in the main living area, so sofa it is. Accordingly, Aizawa comes around the edge of the furniture, and slowly squats halfway to deposit the kid in a way that won't have the bag on his shoulders swinging all over the place, ignoring how his knees protest the movement. Ugh, he's getting too old for all this. But then Izuku is settled and Aizawa pulls the thick woollen blanket off the back of the sofa to tuck it around his brat, allowing a little smile to escape when Izuku curls up in his sleep, snuggling into the soft fabric, and then widens it when the cats, despite their pervious mithering for food, end up leaping up beside the teen to plaster themselves all over him with quiet, rumbling purrs. Glancing furtively around the room, despite knowing that there's nobody to be found, Aizawa presses the briefest of kisses to his kid's curls before abruptly straightening, depositing his bag against the coffee table, and moving away to put down some cat food and grab his laptop charger from his own room. He does need to finish consulting Nedzu on Izuku's schedule changes, and he owes Tsukauchi a summary report from dealings with a gang over the last few weeks. Normally he'd ask Izuku if he wanted to add some of his own analyses, but between the day his brat's had and the series of villain analyses that the brat's done for Nedzu over the last few weeks (from Elysium to Stain to Daydream), his kid deserves a bit of a break to say the least. All the better if he's actually sleeping.

A few hours later, a bit past their usual meal time, Izuku starts to grumble and fidget, gradually coming around. Aizawa watches him out of the corner of his eye, continuing to scroll through his lesson plans for next week, making any adjustments and addendums needed to suit his current class. Unfortunately, certain things had been switched around this year, new priorities made, as villains had targeted 1-A. First aid, for example, had been bumped up from the second term to the first now. And that meant curriculum changes, which meant minor changes to day-to-day content as they would lack certain adjacent and background knowledge that now wouldn't be learnt until later on. It was messy, but doable. And very time-consuming. Which had the unfortunate side-effect of making Aizawa detest doing it, and thus it was all the easier to refocus his attention on Izuku as the kid pushed himself up, careful of the cats even when half-asleep, hair mussed, bandages still clear, and turns his head towards the man beside him.

"Alright kiddo?" he murmurs, keeping his voice low and soothing because judging by how Izuku squints towards the light from his laptop - the room's dark curtains were pulled shut to let the brat sleep - he's still light-sensitive. Aizawa saves his document as he speaks and puts the screen down, plunging them into very faint light, leaning forwards to abandon the device onto the coffee table and grabs the TV remote whilst he's at it.

"Mmrph."

"Articulate," Aizawa snorts, unable to help himself.

"Itches."

"The bandages?" Izuku only nods in reply, and Aizawa grimaces in sympathy.

"Sorry kiddo, I'm afraid we can't take them off yet. Want a distraction?" he offers, irrationally annoyed that he can't directly soothe the brat.

"Mmyeh."

"Got it," Aizawa smirks, and carefully tugs the kid to lay his head in the man's lap, face up to stop him from pressing on the bandages, and begins to gently rub his fingers against Izuku's scalp, keeping his touch light but firm, soothing against the kid's skin in something akin to a massage, and revels in how, after a few minutes, Izuku goes utterly boneless, positively purring at the delightful sensations.

"Want the telly on?"

"...Quiet? Brightness down?" And the muted, hesitant reply only makes the man smirk, in lieu of more damnable smiling, and he turns on the TV, fortunately already at fairly low points for both settings from their late-night watching not even twenty-four hours earlier. After flicking through a few channels, he finds some kind of documentary, this one on pre-Quirk musicians that Hizashi no doubt loves, or would on the unlikely chance he hasn't already seen it, but that offers soothing background noise, almost quiet and nondescript enough to be white noise, if not for the occasional low-volume clamour of a particularly raucous song snippet.

"Not too much?" he asks all the same. He receives a grunt in return, albeit one that melts into a very purr-like sound as he soothes over a particular part of the kid's scalp, somewhere behind his ear. Kami, his brat is just too much sometimes. And he'll have to remember that spot if it makes the kid relax like this.

At some point, they both must have dozed off, because Aizawa suddenly wakes up to find it even darker, the TV screen-saver having activated to show the time. 23:46. Fuck. And they never did eat dinner. But, quite frankly, he didn't really want Izuku to eat now, not this late, or at least not a full-on meal, because he knows it wouldn't agree with the kid, but maybe a nutrient pouch would be okay? After the strenuous exercise and sheer pressure of the day, Problem Child would need something. And something light at that. But they didn't have much by way of groceries, because they normally did a food shop over the weekend, and trying to cook pretty much anything now would have them eating at least twenty minutes past midnight, which would be utterly ridiculous, even for insomniacs like themselves. Although quite frankly, even he would probably never admit it, having Izuku in the flat, particularly when in the same room so that he could hear the kid's breathing and sometimes, as with now, feel his warmth and steady heartbeat, actually helped Aizawa to sleep too. It was one of very few things that did. Izuku, the cats, and that one white noise machine that Oboro and Zashi had combined their pocket money to buy for his birthday, years and years ago now.

With a deep sigh, because waking Izuku up is never a fun task (sue him, he empathised with the kid, okay? people waking you up when you were already exhausted is shitty), he still begins to run his hand through green curls, then nudging very carefully at the teen's shoulder. And whilst it takes a solid minute, Izuku does blink awake, looking adorably confused, even in the barely-there light of the dark living area.

"Sorry to wake you kid, but you could do with having a nutrient pouch and actually getting to a real bed. Me too, for that matter." Because sleeping upright had done his spine exactly zero favours but apparently about sixty different coupons for stiffness and aches had been awarded and redeemed in the four or five hours that they'd slept.

"Mmk," the kid mumbles, unintelligible, but awkwardly half-rolls, half-sits-up until he is out of Aizawa's lap and slumping heavily against the sofa, head drooping and swaying periodically. With one last little hair ruffle (the loose curls are soft, okay, even after all the shit it went through today - ugh, speaking of, he needs to get the kid to shower, but that will definitely have to wait until morning) Aizawa stands, wobbles for a moment on numb legs, but then spends a moment twisting and stretching some, snickering when a series of nasty cracks and pops have Izuku jolting awake, green eyes wide and reflecting even the dimmest lights in the near-darkness. Aches sufficiently, if not completely, dealt with, the pro ambles into the kitchen and collects four of their many nutrient pouches, ferrying them all back to the sofa, depositing two in Izuku's lap. He would have gone for half juice pouches, but a bunch of sugar is the last thing either of them needs right now, frankly. Then he watches on, slurping his own, as Izuku somewhat clumsily sucks his own up, then ushers the kid to his actual bed with quiet words and deliberate nudges. Finally, he fusses with some of the blankets, tucking Izuku in, but not too tightly because he doesn't like that, and then spends a long minute just brushing fingertips through his kid's hair again to soothe him back into sleep.  Well, time to take himself to bed too.

The two spend Thursday on the sofa, the second years' Sports Festival on the TV, Aizawa half-watching, half-working on his computer, whilst Izuku scribbles into his most recent notebook - this one a more practical and pretty one of soft leather, thicker than most of his composition notebooks, but still light and small enough to not take up too much rucksack space; Aizawa had picked it out especially - and occasionally pauses to stroke one of the cats when they come over, meowing loudly like the needy little bastards they are. He loves them. That afternoon, a good few hours after the Sports Festival was over, the two headed to UA, meeting Recovery Girl at the main infirmary so that she could check Izuku over. Fortunately, when she peels the bandages off, they reveal only sore red skin that looks irritated, but nothing like the gruesome burn that had originally marred the skin. No scars to match the scattered shiny starbursts along Izuku's back, thank Kami. Aizawa is already struggling to treat Bakugou with some kind of impartiality, if he had yet again scarred Aizawa's kid... Well, he wouldn't blame himself for dragging the blond down a dark alley and beating him up some. Screw being a hero, Bakugou had relentlessly abused his son. But still. Taking a deep breath, Aizawa reminded himself that Izuku was learning to stand up for himself and Bakugou was learning to control both his temper and use of force. The hero trusts Izuku to come to him now, or to at least beat the blond up himself, and that would have to be enough. Perhaps he could get Chiyo to give him a scare though...

"Aizawa Shouta, I know that expression; focus on Izuku please," a voice scolds, and he jolts out of his thoughts to see said woman glaring at him, syringe cane raised in warning. He ducks his head into his capture weapon, muttering a platitude or two. Well, at least the kid gets a giggle out of it.

"So Izuku-kun, I've healed up all but the superficial burn currently left. I would continue with another treatment today for that, but I worry that your stamina will suffer for it, you are generally tired to begin with, let alone after such a high-stress event such as yesterday's, so I believe I've done more than enough with my Quirk, particularly between the perforated ear drum and concussion yesterday. I'd also like to confirm that your eye and ear are definitely responding correctly and have, in the latter's case, healed up as thought, so I'm just going to do a few minor tests. Alright?" Izuku nods his permission, and she works through said tests, mainly just observing reactions to various stimuli, and she is apparently satisfied with what she finds, much to Aizawa's relief.

"Looks like everything has recovered well. Now, young man, I want you to be honest, how much pain are you in? Have you had any dizzy spells, blurred vision or the like?"

"Not really? My depth perception was shot yesterday, but it got better after you healed me the second time and once I'd slept some. Uhm, pain's not bad. Showering made me a bit dizzy but I just made it colder and it cleared up so that's fine."

"I'll be the judge of that! However, it was most likely just a combined reaction to the heat and standing up for a prolonged time. So try to take quicker, cooler showers over the next few days, just until we can comfortably say that you're fine, understood?"

"Okay, thank you."

"Hm. At least you're polite, unlike some of your yearmates. Shouta, you will bring him in if anything gets worse, I'm sure," and whilst that is worded almost questioningly, her voice is steel, and the man nods, not wanting to interrupt,
"And I won't currently be prescribing you any painkillers, stick to over the counter for now and take them as needed, not religiously, and your Dad will keep an eye on how many you're taking and when. Any questions?" Both Aizawas shake their heads, and with a slight smile, she shoos them out.

"Go on, off with you then. You'd better not be back in this school until Monday, either of you!" Izuku snickers and doesn't hesitate as he leaps onto his Dad's back the moment they're out of Recovery Girl's sight, Aizawa automatically looping his hands beneath the kid's legs to keep him comfortably in place.

"Come on brat. Shops, then home." It's coming into evening now, and they still need to pop to one of the local grocery shops to pick stuff up for the next week, tonight's dinner included.

Two days later, after lazy days with only one short patrol for Aizawa on Saturday evening, and the man painstakingly shaving one side of his head for him, Izuku wakes up to find his limbs heavy and thoughts distant, unable to move. His skin itches. Something about his fingers and toes feels disconnected, unreal, yet he still wants to fidget and move. Is he still asleep? Did he ever wake up? Is it even still the weekend? Is there really any point to getting up either way? He's only a Deku anyway. There's a voice in the back of his head, tinny yet omniprescent, that is chanting it, that's telling him to just stay in bed, to stay out of the way, not to take up more of his Dad's time, space, home, food, cats- Not to take up anything. Even the air he breathes is probably a waste. He really should just stay in bed and wait to wither away, shouldn't he? Nothing better to do after all. Saves him being a problem for anyone else...

A period of time later - a minute, a week, a year, it's all the same, all painfully eternal with his brain and body refusing to respond or cooperate - there is a noise. A knock. Wonder who that could be? Oh, wait, did he reply? He's not sure - it felt like his mouth moved but who knows if there were words, sounds, syllables, or if he simply made a movement. It was tiring either way. In fact, he could almost go back to sleep, if only his eyes would close, rather than staring at the ceiling- Oh. What's that? Dark strands, dark eyes, pale skin... Oh, of course, it's Eraserhead. Aizawa-sensei. Dad. That one.

"Yeh, kid, that's it, it's Dad. You back with me?" And now Izuku is more aware again. He can feel his body, for all that it is lethargic, and registers that there is a careful hand pressing against his forehead. It's nice.

"Glad you think so kiddo. Wanna come have breakfast with me? We can make pancakes, the lighter ones and everything. We bought raspberries."

'Okay,'  he signs in reply, fingers clumsy, but the movements are easier than keeping track of teeth and tongue and throat. And his Dad's worried expression seems to soften a little when Izuku actually consciously answers him, so he should probably keep doing that. Whatever lessens the burden on the man.

"I'll let you get up. We can have another pyjama day. Come and join me in the kitchen whenever you're ready, got it kiddo?" Izuku offers a lopsided nod, and his Dad ruffles his hair, just once, before leaving the room, cats in tow. Huh, when had they got in? Izuku hadn't noticed... Had he missed anything else? Had his Dad- Oh wait. He was meant to be getting up, wasn't he? Right. Yes. Getting up. He could do that. Maybe if he just rolls over first, that'll be a start, then he can rest for a little while longer... 

And so Izuku does. Or at least, he starts to. He does roll onto his side, uncaring of how one leg falls off the bed entirely, blankly staring at the muted colours of his room, at his half-open door, only aware of his breathing - is he meant to be breathing? it might be better if he stopped, mightn't it? - until something flickers in front of him. Oh, a cat. One of their cats. Caitlin. Their little baby.

"Hey love," he murmurs, barely conscious of doing so, reaching out a floppy hand in a vague attempt to pet her. It doesn't reach, what with her being in the doorway, but Izuku really wants to cuddle her, so he brings his other leg out of bed and stumbles onto his feet. She trills at him, approving somehow, but turns and trots away. What...

Next thing Izuku knows, he's sat at the bar table, Caitlin purring in his lap, a bowl of pancake batter and a spatula in his hands that he's stirring. How...? Well, it doesn't really matter. At least he's probably helping out; better than being utterly useless.

"Think that's done Izuku?" A voice asks, and he looks up to notice his Dad, a bowl of raspberries in hand - they should be more colourful than that, shouldn't they? they look diluted, desaturated, faded - and then blinks down at the batter. The flour is mixed in, so...?

"Good to hear. Thanks for doing that kiddo. Look after Caitlin for me whilst I cook, would you?" Izuku nods, silent, and feels himself zone out a bit again, everything distant and grey but for the repetitive rumbling of the cat in his lap, and the feel of her fur beneath his fingertips.

As Aizawa finishes up the first pancake, plating it up with some raspberries and cream, a spoon on the side, he turns back to Izuku and can't help but frown a little. Then he squares his shoulder, blanks his expression, and puts the plate down gently.

"Hey kid, reckon you could help me with something today?" Izuku looks up at him with eyes slightly brighter from curiosity. At least partially aware then. Well, it's a start.

"I wanted to go through the kitchen: clean out the cupboards, wipe them down, check that everything's in date. Reckon you wouldn't mind giving me a hand?" Aizawa knows better than anyone how Izuku is utterly unable to deny people help, particularly those he cares about. So hopefully a productive but low-energy task like cleaning together will help pull him out of this episode a bit, or at least ease his way through it. Kami, he hates seeing his kid like this. And after having such a good week too... Well, he tries to reassure himself, progress is rarely linear and Rome wasn't built in a day, or whatever the phrases were. But then Izuku signs a brief,

'Sure,' and turns his attention to the food in front of him, eating slowly and methodically. Aizawa allows himself to slump a little in relief. At least Izuku's eating at all. Satisifed that the kid is doing more or less okay, considering the circumstances, Aizawa hurries through making himself another pancake and scarfs it down in time to make Izuku a second one, barely a few seconds after finishing the first. He'll look after his kid today, and hopefully Izuku will feel better in time for school tomorrow. Or maybe even sooner.

Chapter Text

The moment Izuku enters homeroom, a bit later than usual, Iida is on his feet and approaching him, exclaiming,

"Midoriya, I have been informed that it was your analysis that was sent out to heroes acting in Hosu!" The taller boy's hands are chopping frantically, eyes wild and hair in unusual disarray. The bags under his eyes are dark too. Oh, of course, Ingenium had been attacked and barely survived.

"Uhm- a-about Stain?"

"Yes, that is correct!" Izuku nods hesitantly in confirmation and their class president goes on,
"Then I am in your debt!" And the serious boy is suddenly in a deep bow, head almost to the floor,
"It was your analysis that saved my brother's life! Should you ever need or want anything, please inform me and I will do my utmost to aid you in your heroic endeavours!"

"I- uh- wha- you're w-welcome?"

"You are too kind!"

"N-no? I- I j-j-just did s-some a-analysis?"

"But still! You are clearly of great mental prowess as well as physical and you have saved at least one life! You are truly a hero and-"

"I-Iida, p-please-" For some reason, Izuku's breaths are hitching and his hands are trembling. He knows - he knows - that he should be smiling and happy and excited but all that he can feel is the cold, stone weight of his heart beating a crushing tattoo against his lungs.

"Midoriya, with me," Aizawa abruptly calls out from the classroom door, before even Shouto and Hitoshi can try to comfort him. And Izuku is quick to stumble away from the surprised Iida and duck out of the door, beneath his Dad's arm. The pro hero almost immediately steps through behind him and allows said classroom door to slide shut in their wake. Even quicker, he has his capture weapon loose around Izuku's neck and his brat's head tucked firmly against his own shoulder.

"Breathe with me kiddo, come on. In, one, two, three, four; out, one, two, three..." As he counts their breaths, keeping his tone soothing and low, he crouches just a little and hauls his kid up so that the brat's legs latch around his waist and Aizawa can settle him on his hip to carry him somewhere out of Jirou and Shouji's earshot. Just because he has faith in those two not to gossip, doesn't mean that he wants them to know about everything unnecessarily. Bad enough that the faculty are all aware, albeit under threat of an official gag order courtesy of Nedzu, he doesn't want to add to the already too long list of people in the know. It's probably a matter of time, knowing these hellions, but still. He'll give Izuku as much reprieve as possible. 

Approaching the staff lounge, Aizawa shoves the door open with his foot, and is quick to go and seat himself at their usual sofa. Fortunately, almost every single first year teacher has a homeroom, whilst Yagi isn't there yet and Ryo must be in his counselling office. So the room's empty.

"Kiddo, Izuku, come on. Talk to me here kid. What was wrong? Was it stress? Was Iida too loud? Izuku... I need you to talk to me kiddo," Aizawa coaxes, carding a careful hand through his son's curls. Izuku only whimpered and attempted to shove his face further into the crook of the pro's neck.  But at least the panic attack had faded. And Aizawa, whilst grateful for that, hadn't missed how distinctly upset Izuku still was, shoulders and hands shaking, his grip on the man's jumpsuit too tight and desperate.

"Please Izuku?"

"I- He was-" But the greenette's voice gives out and he sobs, just once, in frustration, no tears yet but anguished all the same.

"Hush, it's fine kiddo, it's fine. You have time," Aizawa coos, tone soft and oh-so-gentle; most people hearing it wouldn't have believed that it was him, but for his kid he couldn't care less about what he sounded like, or even about his reputation. Not when something was so obviously wrong.

"Izuku, can you let up? I want to be able to see you. Sorry about having to look at this ugly mug, but I could do with talking to you here kiddo." Without a word or gesture, Izuku unlatches his legs from around the hero's waist and then allows Aizawa to manhandle him until he's sat sideways across his Dad's lap, tucked into a safe little ball, head leant on the his collar bone, his Dad supporting him, holding him close and steady.

"D-Dad?" Aizawa hums softly, not wanting to interrupt him, but still acknowledging him.

"I- He- Iida called me a- he called me a hero and I- I know I should be happy but-! But I'm not!  I've hurt people and I- I'm just some stupid u-useless Deku wh-who could barely manage t-to be a fucking v-vigilante and now-! It's not right! And it- it wasn't enough a-anyway 'cause S-Stain's still out there s-so-! I- Dad, I can't-!"

"Izuku, kid-" Aizawa stops himself, clutching his son closer and taking a deep breath of his own. God, his kid.

"Izuku. Listen to me," he starts again, tone firm and steady, almost demanding. It is still caring, considerate, but it is overwhelmingly a command. And Izuku does stop mumbling, although he doesn't stop trembling and there are tears now, big fat globulets tracing over his scars and freckles and eyebags. No, Aizawa's heart isn't breaking. Shut up. It's yours, honestly! Why would he feel his heart splinter and shatter at the sight of his kid falling apart in his arms, knowing that this comes from years of abuse and bullying and loneliness that he can't erase?

"Izuku, my precious brat, you are more than a 'Deku'. You are top of your class, a personal student of Nedzu and perform professional analyses used regularly by hero agencies - you are not stupid. You have acted as a vigilante for three years; preventing and interrupting innumerable crimes, including deaths, mine too, during that time; you have motivated and protected your classmates; you have given me a son that I could not cherish more - you are not useless. You may be Quirkless, but every single day you prove that it doesn't matter, that you are just as worthy and strong as others, that you are more than enough. You won the Sports Festival. Kid, I love you - every part of you. I believe you fully worthy of being here at UA, of being a hero. Have I ever lied to you Izuku, truly? Do I do things illogically without incredibly good reason?" The teenager doesn't reply - can't - but judging by the renewed tears, he fully understands what Aizawa is saying. And when he peers up at his Dad, eyelashes clumping together, bangs threatening to hide his verdant gaze, feverishly bright, there is something there. A vibrancy. Izuku - his Kidilante - had always been made of steel and ice and fire, tempered and bent and somehow never quite broken. But he had always been damaged. Yet now, something in his eyes seems healed - or perhaps stitched together, not yet healed, that will take more time, but something that Aizawa has said has helped, granted him that little bit of self-acceptance that he had been lacking before, that had started to come into existence only last week.

"Kid..." Aizawa trails off, genuinely not sure what else to say. Then he decides that no, he's said enough, and instead reaches to push Izuku's bangs back, out of the way, and holds his hand against his kid's forehead for a minute, then slipping it down to cradle his tear-stained cheek and stroke a thumb just beneath one of those stunning eyes, trying to convey how much he cares for his brat with every touch. This is his kid, his precious Kidilante, and he wants nothing more than to help him feel confident, happy and loved. If anyone deserves it, Izuku does.

For a long time, they simply sit there, silent but comfortable, not moving even when the bell for the end of homeroom rings out. And they continue to sit there after the bell chimes and, a few minutes later, Midnight, Snipe and Ectoplasm open the door, discussing one of Nedzu's new policies. And promptly freeze upon seeing the father-son pair sat together, both with tear tracks down their cheeks. Aizawa looks up at their entrance, heedless of how red his eyes are and the marks upon his own face, and nods them in with a faint scowl. They tactfully ignore how Izuku is half-asleep, leant heavily into his Dad. When Midnight goes to approach them, a packet of wipes in hand, Aizawa shoots her a warning glare. He knows that anyone coming close will rouse Izuku - his vigilante instincts are hard-won and, by now, very much hard-wired too. Suddenly seeming to understand, she nods and offers a smirk, turning away again and re-initiating her conversation with Ectoplasm and Snipe in hushed whispers. At some point, Izuku fully slips into sleep, and Aizawa eventually follows.

An hour or two later, Izuku is the first to wake up, finding himself slumped against his Dad. At some point or another they had shifted to lie lengthways on the sofa, Izuku tucked under his Dad's familiar, protective arm, face buried in the man's capture scarf. The elder looked exhausted... and were those tear tracks on his face? Huh, those were a rare sight. His dry eye pretty much prevented him from physically producing and releasing tears, so why-? Oh yeh. Izuku's little breakdown. Kami, how embarrassing. But at least he felt lighter now, the bands around his chest and throat and wrists had eased off somewhat, not quite right, but a lot better all the same. Wait, how long has it been? He must have missed homeroom and some lessons too- fuck, fuck, fuck. And all because his self-esteem was so low that he couldn't even handle being called a hero... Yet still, his Dadzawa had comforted him, reassured him. Said some things that Izuku genuinely wanted to believe, that he could perhaps begin to trust in, if only a little. After all, Aizawa Shouta did not lie. And there was no way that the serious, sincere man would make something like this a logical ruse. Huh.

"Kiddo?" The soft, sleep-rough voice breaks through Izuku's thoughts and he looks up at his Dad, humming a near-silent acknowledgment. Neither move.

"Feel up to class?" Izuku pauses at that, genuinely contemplating, before nodding a little,

"Yeh, I think so. I'm more settled, lighter, head's shut up a bit. I... Thanks Dadzawa," he mutters, voice almost inaudible, but Aizawa offers a little grunt in response all the same. Then, with stiff, careful limbs, the man pushes them both up into sitting positions, and they both automatically scan the room, eyes catching on the couple of teachers - all studiously ignoring the pair - and then, of course, the clock. Damn, it's already second period. He's missed English.

"Want me to come along, or just give you a note?"

"A note'll probably be fine. It's Cementoss-sensei, so he won't make a big deal out of anything."

"Alright kid. Gimme a second."

Twenty minutes into Literature, Izuku quietly enters the classroom with an apologetic expression, note in hand, and offers Cementoss a short bow along with the piece of paper, various classmates eyeing him in worry. But the pro hero merely nods with a slight smile, passing the note back to him, and continues with the lesson as Izuku settles into his seat. Fortunately, they seemed to be recapping their previous work, so he hasn't even missed too much. And Shouto and Hitoshi, upon being offered a wobbly smile from the greenette, immediately relax somewhat themselves. They must have been worried. Still though, the lesson passes quickly, and then the bell rings for break. But before anybody can even think to ask after Izuku, Aizawa is rattling open the classroom door and speaking, despite poor Cementoss-sensei still being halfway through leaving,

"Right everyone, attention. Stay in your seats. Sorry that you're missing break, but I'm sure you'll survive. You'll remember that after the Sports Festival, I reminded you all of the impending internship offers. Well, I'm going to be handing out said offers. And I will reiterate, whilst many of you got offers, some did not and this fact will only partially reflect upon your skill levels. And the school will be organising suitable agencies and heroes for those of you who need it. We'll have another matter to deal with after, but for now, see this." And with that, Aizawa stands to the side and, with a press of the remote suddenly in his hand, a projection comes up on the blackboard. 

"Todoroki, you got 4,578 offers. Bakugou, 3,003. Yaoyoruzu, 681. Iida, 503. Tokoyami, 360. Ururaka, 242. Kirishima, 198. Kaminari, 173. Sero, 102. Midoriya, 76. Shinsou, 41. Everyone will receive a packet, either of the forty UA-affiliated agencies or for their nominations. Consider them carefully, ask advice as you need, and don't make any stupid choices. You have until Friday homeroom." As a murmur runs through the class, and a few students cry out in triumph or anger (the latter being Bakugou about 'that fucking icyhot got more than me?!'), several with confusion over Izuku and Shinsou gaining so few, Aizawa gives them a few moments to get it out of their systems then activates his quirk and demands that they shut up. Everyone complies.

"And third on the list of things to do is a lesson on Hero Informatics. It's not my speciality, so Midnight-"

"-IS HERE TO HELP!" The woman crows, bursting into the room to a garbled mess of surprised and pleased cries from the class.

"You little terrors are going to be picking your hero names! And do be careful darlings, because it might stick with you for your entire career, right Eraserhead?" she purrs, but the man only grumbles incoherently, stepping over to the corner and slithering into his sleeping bag. Izuku has no doubt that he will only be lightly dozing at most. 

But then Izuku registers just what Midnight had said. Ah fuck, hero names. He'd already messed this up once. Except, he kind of hadn't? Kidilante had become his name. It was the one that the police knew, that the villains feared, that his Dad had been calling him for nigh-on three years. It was his first hero name, even if it was Present Mic who semi-accidentally gave it to him and even if it had belonged to a vigilante. It was a name that symbolised all the good in his life, everything he had achieved. But did he really want to be known as Kidilante forever? It was, obviously, inherently, quite a juvenile name. So maybe if it was the title rather than his name? Ugh, this was so much effort.

"Toshi, Shou," he murmurs, only just loud enough for them to hear,
"Do you have any ideas?" Shouto twists in his seat with a slight shrug,

"Maybe just Shouto? He wants me to have something like Flash Fire or Flame Frost so that's a no." Hitoshi snorts and Izuku offers a quiet giggle, although both of their gazes were sympathetic.

"What about Equilibirum? Or Entropy? Maybe Duality-"

"What was that one?" Shouto interrupts, visibly perking up a little.

"Entropy? Duality?"

"Hm, Entropy. Thanks Izu."

"You're welcome?" A questioning lilt bleeds in from the shorter's surprise, but Shouto only offers a slight smile before grabbing his board and scribbling the name down. Izuku and Hitoshi look to each other, both a little shocked, but not unpleasantly so. Then they share soft smiles at their friend's enthusiasm, subtle though it might be. It's good to see.

"And you, Toshi?"

"I was debating Mind Blank, but that feels too suggestive about my quirk. Puppeteer is too... you know."

"Yeh, I get what you mean. Maybe Siren? It's kind of misleading but still accurate. Or something relating to purple?"

"Oh what, so are you gonna be called Green Bean?"

"Tooooooshi," Izuku whines, half-playful. He only receives a grin in return, and a second one, albeit smaller, when Shouto turns back around to keep on talking with them.

"I might go with Siren for now. Dunno. You?"

"I've got something, I think. Maybe. It's got meaning, but I'll see."

"You gonna tell us what it is?"

"You can wait."

"Nooo, I'll die from the anticipation!"

"Then perish," Izuku deadpans, before all three of them being to snicker, attracting a few fond, if bemused, glances from their classmates.

Ten minutes later, Midnight is calling them all to attention once more. They go through the class, person by person, with a variety of brilliant to highly questionable names, when they get to Shouto.

"For now, I want to be known as Entropy, the Elemental Hero. It's my own, given to me by someone I consider important. I like it," he says simply, face blank, but with the slightest flush to his cheeks. Midnight laughs loudly, but only comments on the good alliteration of the name.

"Catchy," she approves. Shouto only nods, face completely neutral once more, and returns to his seat. Izuku is up next. Coming up to the front of the classroom, he abruptly finds himself nervous. What if they recognise the name? His vigilante persona is only really known by the police, local heroes and the underground. So they shouldn't do. Fuck it, it'll be fine. And so he forces down his stutter and stands with the posture of someone experienced, self-assured, when he is at the podium and turns his board around.

Hemlock, the Kidilante Hero.

"I want to be primarily known as Hemlock, but I couldn't abandon my first 'hero' name."

"Oh? Your first hero name?" Midnight questions, on auto-pilot, but then shuts her mouth almost as quickly, a glint of guilt in her eyes. She'd clearly realised the answer to said question as soon as she'd asked, and knows exactly how much Izuku couldn't afford to say on the matter.

"Yes. It means a lot to me." Izuku replies, ignoring the little smattering of curious titters from his class, simply staring down at his board as though he could read through it. He is sure. Being a vigilante is what he's got him here, his 'Kidilante' self is about sixty percent of his being, maybe seventy, even eighty; he can't abandon it now. Not to mention it's what brought him his Dad and, ultimately, his friends too. He is Kidilante and always will be.

"Well, I see nothing wrong with it. Cool name kid! Next!" And they continue on through the class again, Hitoshi up next.

"I wasn't too sure, but for the time being I'm going with Siren. I, uh, don't have a title yet."

"That's alright darling!" Midnight chirps,
"You've got plenty of time for that - it's the name that really matters and what you need for now. And that's a good one!" Hitoshi just nods, scratching at the back of his head, and ambles back down the aisle. Well, at least that's over with.

Yet again finding themselves sat in a cat café after school, the trio are settled in their usual cushioned corner, shoulder to shoulder, cats sprawled over and around them. One small tuxedo tomcat has managed to wile its way on top of Izuku's head, curling up amongst the fluffy green hair. Hitoshi had taken far too many pictures and spammed every group chat available with them. But after a while they settled down, simply basking in the quiet and companionship of each other and the cats. Eventually though, it is Shouto who speaks up,

"Are you alright after this morning? Aizawa-sensei looked after you, yes?"

"Ah yeh. Uhm, had a panic attack, talked through some stuff; my head was already in a bit of a dodgy place, had a bad day yesterday. It- it was a mess, but I'm doing okay now, I think. Better at least. S-sorry if I worried you or anything."

"It's not a problem green bean. We just want you to be happy." Izuku can only offer them a tremulous, hopeful smile at that. Kami, his friends...

"On a more optimistic note Izu, you said that Kidilante was your first hero name? Is it something you'd be okay with sharing?"

"I don-" Then Izuku cuts his intinctive 'no' off, taking a moment to truly think it through. He knows neither Shou nor Toshi would judge him for it. He knows that. Is he even allowed to tell them? Well, he hasn't really broken any laws, and it's not like information is illegal, or at least not this information, so it should be fine...?

"I, uhm, I'm just gonna ask someone something quick." And Izuku carefully digs his phone out of his pocket, making sure he doesn't disturb any of the cats. And, even without being asked, neither of his friends peer over at his screen as he brings up the group chat that holds his three parental figures. Nobody better to ask than them.

Parental Problems (TM):

ProblemChild : [Do you guys think I can tell Shouto and Hitoshi about stuff?]

PolygraphWho : [depends what you mean by stuff but probably]

ChaosCreature : [I can have gag orders ready as needed.]

ProblemChild : [About being a vigilante. And thanks Nedzu-sensei, although they shouldn't be necessary. It's only Toshi and Shou.]

PolygraphWho : [doesn't affect me Izuku. up to you so long as you trust them. they seem like good kids]

ProblemChild : [thanks Tsuka. Dadzawa?]

ToiletpaperFather : [Go for it kiddo. They're good friends and they know that I'll make their lives difficult if need be.]

ProblemChild : [Bad Eraserhead! That's not how you treat your students!]

ToiletpaperFather : [But it is how I treat people that hurt my kid.]

ProblemChild : [Aww, someone's gone soft.]

ToiletpaperFather : [Fuck off brat. Oh, and bring more litter home with you.]

ProblemChild : [fine, fine. and i'll tell them.]

ToiletpaperFather : [Okay. Good on you kid.]

ToiletpaperFather : [And Tsukauchi, look what you've done. His texting has gotten worse - it looks like yours.]

PolygraphWho : [shut it Aizawa i'm too busy for proper text speech]

ToiletpaperFather : [So am I but you don't see me lacking capital letters.]

PolygraphWho : [No, I see you carrying around an eyesore of a sleeping bag.]

Izuku, snorting, turns his phone back off before he can get sucked into more banter with the three. Sue him, he thrives on spite and sarcasm.

"I can tell you."

"Do you want to? You've already had a day and a half," Hitoshi pushes, both his and Shouto's expressions verging on concerned. And that is enough for Izuku to know that he really is sure.

"Yep. What do you two think of vigilantes?"

"Why…?" The suspicious question is only answered by a pout. Hitoshi and Shouto exchange glances over Izuku's head, already beginning to suspect where this is going, but not daring to voice it yet.

"I think they're brave, but some of them take it too far."

"Endeavour hates them, so I tend to like them."

"Well that's good, else you'd probably disown me."

"I don't think we can disown you," Shouto frowns, distracted by the fact that they're not Izuku's parents and thus not able to disown him.

"I know that Shou. That wasn't the point. My point was that I'm a vigilante and if you hated them then this would be pretty fucking awkward."

For a long moment, the three of them blink at each other. Despite all the evidence, none of them had quite expected Izuku to just come out and say it like that, not even the greenette himself. And now he's shrinking into himself between them, shoulders hunching and face shadowed by his bangs, threatening to topple the cat from his head. That just won't do.

Sharing another glance, this one more concerned but determined, Shouto and Hitoshi twist, shuffling around on the ground until they're facing Izuku head-on.

"Izuku, green bean, can you look at us?" Hitoshi prompts, one hand slowly coming up to rest just above the greenette's knee, glad that Izuku doesn't jump or move away from  the telegraphed affection.

'I don't want you to...'

"To what Izu?" Shouto asks, voice so impossibly soft and smooth.

'I don't know.' And the signing hands are starting to tremble; neither of the taller teens are happy about that.

"It's fine green bean, I promise. You know what else is fine? You being a vigilante. Actually, that's pretty fucking cool."

"I think so too."

"R-really?" And Izuku peeks up at them from beneath bangs and eyelashes. It would be heart-stoppingly adorable, particularly with the cat still on his head, if not for the glassy film over the vibrant green eyes and the dullness behind it.

"Of course Izuku," Hitoshi reassures the teen as both he and Shouto reach forward to gently grasp Izuku's hands, interlacing their fingers, trying to soothe the shaking of the smaller boy's freckled limbs.

"So..." Hitoshi starts who knows how long later, when they have all slumped into each other once again,
"Where did 'Kidilante' come from?"

"Present Mic. Although he didn't know that I knew at that point."

"Oh?"

"Yeh. I was stalkin- waiting to meet up with Eraserdad on his patrol and I overheard him with Present Mic. He called me Kidilante and I liked it, so it stuck."

"How old were you?"

"Just thirteen. I'd been a vigilante for a few months by then."

"Thirteen?" Shouto reaffirms, eyebrows scrunched up in something akin to worry. Izuku nods, silent for a long second, staring down at their interlaced hands,

"It all kind of started by accident - the first few incidences, I was still twelve actually. But then I just started making patrols, got some decent pseudo-Kevlar cloth off of a 'victim' that I saved who insisted on repaying me somehow - I reinforced a couple of hoodies with it, sto- bought a proper mask, picked up a utility belt, kept a few knives from villains, got given a few more. Stole a good frying pan from the home. Eraserdad gave me a bo staff. And I've been working ever since."

"Even now?" There's no judgement in Hitoshi's words, only curiosity interlaced with faint concern, and Izuku can't flinch at that.

"Yeh. I get... restless. Antsy. So Dad lets me patrol with him half the time, normally a few times a week. If not, I bug Tsuka or do research or something to occupy my brain. And I've been doing the occasional analysis for Nedzu-sensei since Dadzawa adopted me, in-including the one on Stain. Although I've been doing unofficial stuff for Eraserdad for ages. Since he began to trust me, pretty much."

"And that was how he knew you? Why he adopted you post-USJ?"

"Well that and the group home I was at before wasn't exactly great, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Yeh," Izuku breathes, suddenly exhausted. Immediately catching on, Shouto and Hitoshi exchange a fond glance. They had more questions, but it can wait.

"C'mere green bean, give me your legs," Hitoshi prompts, nudging Izuku to lean against Shouto's warm side and tucking the greenette's half-folded legs over his own lap, feet on his thigh, where he casually, naturally, curls a hand around a freckled ankle, brushing his thumb soothingly over the protruding bone there.

"Sleep Izu. We'll keep you safe until it's time to go," Shouto adds, slinging his arm carefully across the front of Izuku's chest, waggling his fingers in the air for a second until Hitoshi catches on and brings his free hand up to interlace their fingers, settling their intertwined hands on Izuku's shoulder. It should probably be a bit uncomfortable, but honestly that's impossible to even consider when their friend is so cutely curled up, snuffling softly as he slips into sleep, relaxing fully against them. At one point, one of the employees that almost always has a shift when they visit, comes to stand a good five or six metres away and gestures with a camera, a questioning expression making her intentions obvious. With a slightly flustered smile, Hitoshi nods at her and doesn't feel said smile falter, even as she takes a few pictures.

(Neither he nor Shouto notice her taking a couple more, another ten minutes on, when they're both staring down at Izuku with the softest of adoring expressions - it's only later, when their time is up and they've gently woken Izuku up, meeting her at the counter to get both print-outs and digital copies of the photos that they see them and all three splutter, shocked and blushing furiously - she simply adds the extra copies for free.)

Chapter Text

The next morning's homeroom see the class working through their stacks of paperwork. Each student, regardless of whether they got outside offers or were relying on the UA contacts, had at least forty double-sided pages to work through. Poor Shouto had been given a tablet, Aizawa stating,

"I couldn't be bothered to print or carry all of yours, so have this. Password is donteventryitkid. No capitals, no punctuation, no spaces. Bakugou, same for you." And the man sends Izuku a knowing glance as he speaks, receiving a cheeky grin in return. At least the brat knows how the password is aimed at.

"You are permitted to discuss amongst each other, but keep it down and don't get too distracted. Hellspawn," he chides, even as he slips into his sleeping bag, yet again in the corner of the classroom. And almost instantly, Kaminari is on his feet and bounding towards Izuku, Shouto and Hitoshi.

"Mido, Shinsou, you know you guys did really super good, right?"

"Bit of an understatement, considering Izuku won the whole thing," Hitoshi comments, but Kaminari only nods along,

"Exactly! So why don't you two have more offers? You completely kicked as- butt, I don't get it," he pouts, looking genuinely put-out on their behalves. Several of their other classmates nod along, similarly confused. Exchanging a glance with the greenette, it is Hitoshi who answers,

"Izuku is Quirkless, and the obvious lack of a Quirk probably put most heroes off, particularly above-ground ones, even if it was never explicitly said that he was Quirkless. And they will either think my Quirk is weak or villainous, I bet."

"WHAAAAT?!" Kaminari cries, ignoring how Aizawa sends a glare at him,
"But you're both so strong and cool - you're not weak or villainous or anything! That's so dumb!"

"You would know," Jirou snorts, but all of their class look blatantly shocked and offended. A few of them, like Kouda and Shouji, are clearly quite sympathetic as well.

"We know that, you know that. Most people are just too blind and caught up in the idea of ultimate Quirks to notice. Bastards," Hitoshi mutters, flushing a little when it earns him a giggle from Izuku, who can just about hear him when he gets that quiet.

"Aw man, that really sucks," Kaminari, pouts, tacking on,
"And it's really unfair. But! You shouldn't let it get you down, 'cause we all know you're super-duper amazing, and you're gonna show them all, right? Show them that they're wrong?"

"That's the plan," Hitoshi agrees, and the matching smiles, sadistic, spiteful yet all too pretty, from he and Izuku have a lot of the class shuddering in their seats. Kaminari titters nervously, before bouncing away again, breaking the moment. Nobody forgets it though. And several of them promise themselves that they will try to make sure that their classmates are treated fairly whenever they're around to help, to hopefully help change public opinions once they're heroes in their own rights. To have first and third place in their year receive less than a hundred offers each doesn't sit right at all...

Ten minutes later though, Izuku abruptly straightens, hands clenching around one particular piece of paper,

"Wait, D- Aizawa-sensei, isn't NightVeil your agency?" Izuku's question is loud, carrying across the classroom, and for 1-A that is a very rare experience. And so of course everyone whips around to face him, shocked. But Aizawa merely nods, expression blank,

"A couple of the others - several of them actually - saw your performance at the Sports Festival and were interested. They asked me and I confirmed that you were aiming to go underground. And so we put an offer in."

"But- I-"

"Problem Child, don't explode your head thinking about it. You can either accept it, or choose a different offer. There's no pressure - and this applies to all of you - to choose one agency or hero over another for any particular reason. Be sensible and focus on improving your weaknesses or trying out a field that you think would suit you."

"Wait, sensei, you said 'the others'; why not your boss then, if I may ask?"

"Hm. Good question Yaoyorozu. Underground agencies work differently to those of aboveground, limelight heroes. You standard agency, such as, say, Fatgum's, is based around one high-ranking hero, or even mid-ranking depending on specialities and such, who then has a series of sidekicks who may or may not eventually debut themselves as individual heroes who would then typically start up their own agency. In contrast, due to our lesser numbers and broader skill sets, along with the type of crime we generally deal with and, quite frankly, our higher death rates and lesser need for hierarchy, underground heroes form collective 'agencies' which, at a base level, are a large group of heroes who deal with underground and nightly crime in a district. NightVeil, my agency, covers the Kanagawa and Tokyo regions. Being part of the agency gives us more options for raids, for intelligence and for back-up, whilst allowing us to coordinate patrols and share information both internally and agency-to-agency more easily. It's a web of similar-level heroes, rather than what is essentially a business headed by an individual or a team. It also helps to keep corruption and death tolls down, as we are all accountable for each other." The class sit, clearly rather shocked, some verging on horrified at the sombre information.

"So, is there no seniority? Surely you must have something in place for any large-scale operations or political upheaval or something."

"In a sense. Most underground agencies do retain an aspect of hierarchy, but usually in terms of experience with particular fields. If we're running a human trafficking bust in Musutafu, I might well be the lead hero. But if it were fighting rings in Hosu, then Slipshod would take point; or ImGlo would go undercover for a drugs bust. Most of us prefer to work alone or with select partners and teams, so leadership isn't often an issue. And worse ways things can always be settled with a spar, unofficially."

"That's..."

"It's effectively a different job to a limelight hero. Neither option is better or worse necessarily, it's just what a person is more suited to doing. My Quirk works best in a surprise ambush and my fighting style suits quick, small-group fights. My... unofficial work partner is much the same, hence working together. But All Might prefers taking on large groups and or heavy-hitters, whilst his size and flashiness would work poorly for a three am patrol in back alleys, hence him being an aboveground hero. It's all very logical."

"Wait, sensei, you have a partner?!" Ashido yells, apparently having focused on the only part of his entire explanation that he would have wanted her not to. 

"Of sorts. We share patrols and busts regularly. But as they're a vigilante, it's an unofficial collaboration."

"But they're illegal!" Iida cries, blatantly scandalised. Aizawa pinches the bridge of his nose, already feeling the impending headache,

"And so are the villains. However," he stresses, sending a pointed glance throughout the room,
"Some vigilantes avoid breaking laws by only acting in defence and, even then, some such as my partner, will avoid relying on Quirks, thus bypassing legalities. The police are aware of them. But I must make this very clear to all of you - should a single one of you mention that fact to another soul, or even amongst each other, beyond this classroom or worse, should you possess the true stupidity of daring to fight villains by yourself without direct supervision I will expel you with no hesitation, and I will ensure that Nedzu blacklists you from all other hero schools for breach of conduct, amongst other associated issues. It is beyond dangerous. Seasoned pros die regularly, and I will not have any of you putting yourself into unnecessary risk, is that understood?"  Aizawa's deadly tone, in combination with his hair and weapon floating lazily around him and the glowing crimson eyes of his quirk, sends shivers down the students' spines as they all hurriedly nod and announce their agreements. It is only Izuku, unnoticed at the back of the class, who does not. But Aizawa is hardly going to single him out over it.

"Right, back on track you lot. Just remember my warning." The words and tone are bland, but the fierce glare hasn't abated and, without a noise, all twenty of them bend their heads and go back to studying their lists of agencies. Gradually, the usual chatter blurs back into existence, a few people getting up to compare and debate offers, and Izuku is internally muttering over a few select options when he registers that whoever was approaching their corner of the room was heading for him. Who-? Oh, it's Yaoyorozu.

"Midoriya, I was wondering if I could ask for your opinion on a matter?" She asks, as polite as ever, though clearly a little nervous in how she tugs at her bangs. Izuku, noting the small sheaf of papers in her hand, nods with a slight smile.

"I've been debating between three main options. Of course I'm very grateful for all of them, but I'm rather torn."

"Wh-what's your main goal?" Izuku asks, voice hushed but still with barely a stutter.

"I- In what context, sorry?"

"What do y-you want your int-ternship to achieve? Or help y-you with?" Yaoyorozu opens her mouth to answer, then pauses, closing it again. Finally, after clearly struggling with herself a little, she speaks up,

"I... I suppose I want to gain confidence in myself and my Quirk, more than anything else. I had thought I might go with Uwabami, but upon second thought..."

"I sh-shouldn't want to o-overtake your p-process but sh-she is very f-focused on media image and sponsersh-ships which wouldn't be bad p-per se, but you would p-probably do really well under s-someone like Fatgum - similar Qu-quirk - or a good all-round hero who does l-lots of p-public patrols because experience h-helps build confidence and qu-quick-thinking... uhm, does that h-help?"

"Oh, thank you Midoriya, that sounds very sensible! I have a lot to think about, but that really helped make things clearer... Thank you again!" And her smile is bright, wide and genuine and oh- Is this what it feels like to make another friend? Huh. Normally he just sticks around people until they like him or hurt him. And he's gotten a Dad and three friends out of it so far, so it can't be that bad really, right...

"No w-worries Yaoyorozu." Thank Kami he managed to at least say her name without stuttering, that would have been embarrassing.

"Oh, call me Yaomomo. We're friends after all, r-right?" And they're both very awkward, clearly, but Izuku nods with a genuine grin all the same.

"Call me Izuku th-then. Anyone I'm close to does," Izuku returns, a little part in the back of his head wanting to say 'call me Aizawa', but no, no, no. Well for one, it would be pretty damn confusing in class. But also just because, well, only Shouto and Hitoshi know that it was their teacher who had adopted him, rather than some random stranger. And Izuku would rather avoid the hassle of them all knowing and asking what would inevitably be incessant questions that he just didn't want to answer.

"Of course Izuku! Thanks again!" And with that Yaoyo- Yaomomo returns to her seat, a smile in place, and it doesn't take his best friends more than a moment to turn to look at him, blatantly amused, for all that their expressions are fairly blank still.

"So green bean, you replacing us?" Hitoshi teases, and for one awful second, Izuku's heart drops, but then the joking tone registers and he snickers,

"I couldn't, even if I wanted to." And if all three of them flush a bit in the next moment, it's coincidence, okay? Pure chance.

"Nor could we," Shouto murmurs, once he's patted the flames on the back of his hand out. None of them notice the side-eyes from some of their classmates, who are tittering over how goddamn cute they are they have no right this is unfair why are three of the hottest boys in class so adorably in love with each other- Instead, Izuku refocuses on pulling a few select pieces of paper out of his small stack, and then spends some time snickering with Hitoshi over the veritable book series that Shouto is attempting to make sense of.

That lunch time, settled beneath their usual tree, Izuku, Shouto and Hitoshi find themselves approached by Ururaka, Iida and Asui, all with bentos in hand.

"Hey you three! Mind if we join you?" Ururaka chirps, bright and bubbly as ever. Izuku, Hitoshi and Shouto spend a long moment exchanging glances, and the fact that their three classmates stay stood back at a respectful, if friendly distance, is what clinches it.

"Y-yeh, th-that's be okay," Izuku offers with a smile. Ururaka beams, bounces a few times on the spot, before plopping down almost immediately, Asui settling down beside her, Iida hesitating a moment, eyeing the grass, before he too sits, albeit very properly, legs folding immaculately, bento balanced carefully in his lap.

"Why did you want to join us?" Hitoshi asks, never too fussed about politeness when it comes to protecting himself, and now his two friends. Still though, he manages to keep his tone perfectly civil, suspicion only in his eyes. Iida splutters for a moment all the same, and it is Asui, also blunt, who replies,

"We don't know a lot about you three, and you're clearly very close, but we like what we do know and thought it would be nice for both of us to expand our friend groups a bit, particularly as we've gotten along well with you all so far."

"Reasonable," Shouto allows, reaching across Izuku to steal a piece of chicken out of Hitoshi's bento. The purple-haired boy groans, and nudges Izuku until the shorter grumbles and takes one of Shouto's octopus sausages, dumping it in Hitoshi's bento for him. But he puts it with the salad just to be spiteful.

"Your arms are more than long enough to have done that yourself," he chides, carefully ignoring how their three newcomers look a little surprised at his stutter-less speech. Hitoshi only laughs.

"But why do something myself when I could get you to do it?"

"Why am I friends with you?"

"'Cause you wuuuuuuv us!" Hitoshi teases, draping himself dramatically over Izuku until the shorter has to collapse into Shouto's side, who doesn't even react, only blinking once, continuing to eat, deadpan. Ururaka loses it. And once she starts cackling, Iida and Asui join in, if less hysterically, then Izuku giggles some, muffled by Hitoshi, and even Shouto exhales sharply, just once. But the previous tension has been lost, and everyone begins to eat, once they've calmed further. And it doesn't take long for a few small conversations to pick up, Izuku hesitantly asking Asui about her Quirk, Iida and Ururaka discussing combat with Hitoshi, mainly the two boys explaining some forms and styles to Ururaka, who was talking about how she was thinking about going with a combat-based hero, which was generally seen as a good idea by the group. It was a pleasant lunch time, even if the larger group was still a bit uncomfortable for the three. But Ururaka, Asui and Iida were kind and considerate, didn't move too close into their space, nor ended up too loud or moved too quickly, and it was... It was nice.

"Hey Dad," Izuku says, hopping onto one of kitchen stools, Cadaver and Caitlin happily mushed together in his arms, both purring like plane engines.

"Yeh kid?"

"I think I might have made more friends today. Maybe?"

"Oh? Who?"

"Yaoyo- Yaomomo. And then maybe Iida, Asui and Ururaka too."

"They're all good kids," the man observes, nodding as he took some more ingredients out of the fridge. Looks like it would be stir fry for dinner...

"They're nice. And they don't seem to care that I'm Quirkless, or that I'm quiet, or anything. It's weird."

"Kid, that's not weird, it's right. It's how things should be. Buuuuut people are fuckers and ruin it 'cause they too far up their own arses."

"They are," Izuku snorts, but he buries his head into the mass of feline in his arms, and Aizawa takes a moment to watch him, deciding that he is mostly okay, not about to start crying or have a panic attack, so he lets the kid work through it by himself. He trusts that Izuku will come to him if need be. And even if Izuku doesn't, he'll look after him. It's a Dad's job after all. And he wouldn't have it any other way, not when it meant that he got to have this wonderful demon child in his life every day.

Chapter Text

It's just over two weeks later when Aizawa looks over his gathered class and resists the urge to either sigh, nap or usher them all back to UA where they should be relatively safe and under control. In lieu of all this, he speaks,

"Right hellspawn, I've already lectured you on behaving, staying safe and not running off. Do not think that I still won't expel you if you're reckless idiots or embarrass yourselves and UA, so be sensible. Do you all know where you're going?" Luckily, all of them nod or call affirmatives, and he can see that they all have luggage and their hero costumes. That's a start at least...

"Okay. Good luck, learn lots, don't get into trouble." He pauses, scrutinising them all one last time, then waves a hand dismissively,
"Off with you." And he pretends not to hear Izuku snickering about how he is 'such a Dad'. He'll get the brat back for it later. Well, once the kid's done hugging his two best friends goodbye, and they've gone to their own destinations...

And indeed he does. The two head to the renovated industrial district, to one of the still-rundown warehouses backing onto a junkyard that, upon entering through a small side door, reveals a massive training space.

"Kid, this is a property owned collectively by NightVeil, all of us have access to it for training and the occasional meet-up. Don't break anything."

"This is pretty cool Dadzawa," Izuku mutters, gaping at the free-running and gymnastics area in particular, although the firing range and sparring sections haven't escaped his attention either.

"It's half-funded by the government, so I'd hope it would be. And it's where we're going to be spending the morning." And Izuku abruptly tenses up at that, warily eyeing up his Dad. 

"We're going to be beating the shit out of each other, aren't we?"

"You said it kiddo. And mind your language, brat," Aizawa teases, Cheshire grin in place.

"English then, Dad."

"Fuck off."

"Rude! And what was that you said about language?"

'I said: mind your language, brat.'  They both snort at the sign, tacitly conceding that neither of them were going to win this one, and Izuku heads into the changing rooms he'd noticed to put his hero costume on. No point getting civilian clothes sweaty and gross.

Okay, sweaty and gross was an understatement. Within ten minutes, both of them had been sent face-first into the mats at least twice, so dusty has to be added to the list. As Izuku pushes himself back to his feet, wiping away the blood from a split lip, he sends a half-hearted glare at his Dad,

"I bet StringMeister isn't doing this to Toshi." Even as he opens his mouth to answer, Aizawa is already leaping forwards, a kick flying towards Izuku's face, who dodges and tugs at the man's ankle. Off-balance, Aizawa nearly stumbles, but easily regains his footing.

"They're focusing on Quirk control and you know it brat, so no complaining."

"True," Izuku huffs, barely swaying away from a throat jab, retaliating with a vicious elbow strike that grazes the man's ribs.

"And at least Todoroki followed your recommendation."

"What, to avoid the flaming shitbag? Yeh," he agrees, ducking low and rolling, abruptly popping up with a roundhouse kick that caught Aizawa perfectly in the gut,
"Although I don't like him and Toshi being in Hosu." His Dad doesn't reply for a few moments, a barrage of punches forcing Izuku back enough for the man to catch his breath again.

"Neither. But he's with a decent hero, and he's sensible." Izuku nods a little, even as he blocks the last of the punches and bounds a step back to get the momentum to flip up and over his Dad, latching a hand into his loose hair to pull him down to the ground, commenting,

"It's worse that Iida's in Hosu, but I actually think he's handling everything pretty well." Aizawa hisses in pain, but bends backwards into Izuku's attack, showing his own flexibility. A neat twist keeps his face out of the path of a knee, and a palm strike dislodges Izuku's grip. Twisting further, Aizawa shifts his momentum into a bent-elbow cartwheel, unpredictable enough to keep Izuku from striking.

"Nedzu and I did agree that he should be fine to go with Manual. He's angry, but not to the point of vengeance, I don't think." On his feet again, Aizawa eyes up the kid as they both breathe heavily, warily watching each other. Waiting.

"Exactly! Good thing too."

"You don't say. Imagine the fucking paperwork something like that would create." And then Izuku leaps forwards, knee heading for Aizawa's stomach, hands coming to try and latch around his neck. One-man pincer attack, basically. The man ducks under the hands, blocking the knee with his forearms, already pushing his kid back.

"Lucky you. At least you get paid," Izuku grouches, landing easily, assessing how best to attack next. Aizawa only smirks,

"Don't start that shit again kid. You're a vigilante and a student, you're not meant to be getting paid. And I give you an allowance!" This time it is the hero who moves forwards, going for a more uncharacteristic tackle that nearly startles the teen enough to work. But then he jumps up and back, one foot lashing out the catch the man in the temple. 

"Oh hush."  Aizawa sways a little, but retorts all the same,

"You hush." And they grin, even as they both circle each other again.

After a solid two hours of sparring, and another hour of talking Izuku through some gun basics 'just in case', the two change into fresh clothes and begin to head out for the train station. Interrupting the comfortable silence they'd fallen into, Aizawa speaks up,

"As the second part of your internship, we're going shopping."

"Dadzawa, can I honestly and whole-heartedly say, what the actual fuck?"

"Don't look at me like that Problem Child. We'll use it as stealth training, but we genuinely need to get you some more clothes. And probably notebooks. And some posters or something for your room. Maybe paint."

"Oookay? I already like my room though!" Izuku protests, half because he doesn't want to seem rude, half because he genuinely does like his room. It doesn't matter if the walls are a plain tan, or that there's only a few old black and white posters (he loves those, even more so as Present Mic had stage-whispered that Dadzawa had picked them out specifically for him) and a black and grey shag rug. It's a good room and it's all his and his Dadzawa had put thought into it. Hence the blackout curtains and veritable mountain of monochrome, yellow and green blankets. It was his.

"And there's absolutely no way you could ever like it more?"

"No!" His instant protest is met with a single raised eyebrow.

"...Well okay, I guess so, but I do like it now! There's no point wasting the money on me!" And oops, he hadn't really meant to say it like that, even if it was true, but it was out now and damn, there was no way that the underground hero missed the nuances to his words.

"Kiddo," ah fuck, he sounded deadly serious - stupid Deku, had to open his mouth,
"You are more than worth spending some money on. It's your home as much as mine now, because I want to share it with you - I want you to feel safe and comfortable and for you to have a space of your own to retreat to when needed. Money means nothing, particularly when I've only ever really spent it on the cats before now and for all that they're little brats, they don't cost a lot. I have plenty saved up, and plenty more coming in all the time, you hear? And regardless, I would still want to treat you to things, because you deserve to be happy and, within reason, have the things you want, understood?"

"Oh..." And dammit, now his eyes are watery. 

"Ah, c'mere kid," Aizawa grumbles, the words more akin to a purr than his usual growl, as he tugs Izuku against his chest and simply holds him close for a minute, letting go once Izuku starts to pull away again. Frankly, the teenager is just proud of the lack of a wet blotch on his Dad's scarf or jumpsuit. Well, he's also pretty pleased that they're still in the back-alleys, so nobody is around to have seen their little moment.

"So!" he chirps, bouncing on his feet to distract himself,
"How are we incorporating 'stealth training'? And when are we going?"

"We'll go this afternoon - gives you lunch to figure out what extra things you might want. And effectively, it'll be a combination of evasive manoeuvres and stalking."

"Couldn't have phrased that aaaaany better, could you?" The greenette snorts. The man simply rolls his eyes in return.

"Not really, no. I'll be following you and vice versa. Also, it should help train your instincts further; they're decent now, but rough around the edges, particularly in a crowded environment. And we can only train this through experience - hero training just isn't going to provide that, not until third year at least, when you all begin to specialise further and lessons begin to reflect that. Until then, you can only utilise work experience and internships to focus on specific heroic aspects. Though your patrols put you at an advantage with that." Izuku merely nods, thoughtful, before poking his Dad in the ribs.

"So, what's for lunch?"

"Hm... maybe one of the cats?"

"Dadzawa!" Izuku shriek-laughs, loud and unguarded. Aizawa revels in the familiarity between them; in how open and honest Izuku allows himself to be around him, and in how easy it is to let his own walls down for his son in return. So what if Izuku's not entirely at that point with his friends yet? He's getting far with one person - even better, a responsible adult in a position to help him as needed - and that's a start, far better than he could have hoped or expected. One good thing came out of the blasted USJ incident after all. And, even if he's not as close to Todoroki or Shinsou yet, he is still more of himself than around anyone else. They know about him being a vigilante. And Hizashi and Nemuri see a lot of him, and Nedzu some too. The latter will definitely end up getting to know him far too well after these internships - Izuku is going to be missing English classes in favour of private study with the principal and whilst it should be a good thing for the kid, the sheer feral chaos of the two regularly interacting is not something Aizawa is really looking forward to. It's already bad enough with them having talked properly a grand total of four times. Still though, the kid will enjoy it, so who is he to deny him?

"Come on kiddo, we can make onigiri. Then we'll go to that mall."

"Hey Dadzawa, slate grey or charcoal grey?"

"Don't ask me kiddo. 'S all just grey, grey or grey to me. And it's your room don't forget." Izuku stiffens at that, but just as quickly relaxes and sways to bump his shoulder against the man beside him.

"Hm, charcoal then. And could we- uhm- pick up some silver acrylic paints too? From a craft store?"

"Sure. We can do a 'race to the objective' in there. Kami knows it'll probably be big enough for it." And whilst his agreement ended in a grumble, Izuku was bouncing on the balls of his feet all the same, clearly delighted and, judging by the alarmingly gleeful glint in his eyes, had a plan of some description. Unfortunately, there was no way to tell if it was for the exercise, the room, or both. Ugh, something was going to be a mess. He could already tell - call it a parent's sixth sense for impending doom.

Indeed, only ten minutes later, they are stood outside the nearest arts and crafts store, eyeing each other up.

"Nothing illegal or that we might have to pay for. No fighting. Technically it should be no running but I doubt either of us would stick to it. We're looking for silver acrylic paint, yes?"

"Yep!" Izuku chirps, rocking in place, hands fidgeting. They don't often have the time for... friendly competitions, but they had occasionally raced over rooftops before, and it had always been good fun. Not to mention their semi-regular stress-relieving spars over the years. The latter had honestly become a habit whenever they were particularly antsy or out-of-sorts, if they had the time for it.

"Well then, ready?" Aizawa receives a nod, and begins to count them in:
"Three, two- oi brat!" Because Izuku is already off and running, only calling over his shoulder,

"Logical ruse you hobo!" And Aizawa is pelting after him, making sure to try and read any signs he can. Paints, paints, paints - hah, area four! Now then, where has Izuku gotten too, is he also headed in the right direction? Fuck, he is... A quick glance around confirms that there's nobody in the direct line of fire, so Aizawa shoots out a loop of capture weapon to hook Izuku's ankle. It catches, and the kid goes tumbling head-first. But he also seems to realise what's happening and swings his leg with the movement. Aizawa staggers to the side as the fabric around his shoulders tightens and tugs at him. Then he careens straight into a display of paintbrushes. Whoops. Probably should have been looking where he was looking, rather than at his kid.

"Fuck you Dadzawa!" comes the call, and Aizawa rolls his eyes, even as he leaps to his feet and propels himself off of the end of a set of sturdy shelves that may or may not have swayed with the force, sending some more stuff to the floor. Fuck it.

"Right back at you kiddo!" And now they're both running, practically side-by-side, headed for the furthermost corner of the shop. Some rows of easels and something like oil paints are visible, even from so far away. But then, in between one step and the next, a sharp elbow jabs into the man's side, and he wheezes. Although he doesn't stop running.

"You little shit!" he manages, voice a loud gasp. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the vicious smirk on Izuku's face, and who can blame him if he retaliates at the sight? So he trades several more elbow strikes with the kid, each more painful than the last. Holy shit, they're going to be so bruised up tonight. But for now he still just wants to win. And maybe he shouldn't be getting so competitive with a teenager, but right now Izuku is as much his work partner as his son or student, so he can't bring himself to give a flying fuck-

"Area four!" Izuku abruptly crows, pivoting with a neat little skid to run down a perpendicular aisle. Cursing himself, Aizawa does the same for the next one down. Fuck, acrylic paints, acrylic paints... A shadowy blur of green catches his eye; the shelves don't have backs, he can see straight through to where Izuku is, still keeping almost exact pace with him. Well, no harm to a bit of sabotage. With this thought, Aizawa lashes out with a carefully angled slap of capture weapon, shoving plastic bottles of paint through the shelves at Izuku. The brat stumbles and curses at the sudden onslaught, furious glare coming to level with the man in the gaps. But then the kid is gone- has he fallen? Hearing the sound of flesh against metal, Aizawa utters a few expletives of his own because no, of course Izuku couldn't have simply fallen, he's now climbing the industrial-style shelves. And judging by the echoing footsteps and long shadow from behind and above Aizawa, he's running across the top of the thing. Dammit-

"Hah!" Shit, the kid must have spotted the silver acrylics- Pushing himself to run faster, Aizawa dashes around a corner, now running next to the wall, able to see the metallic paints, only a few metres away, there's a literal display of the golds and silvers- The thud of powerful footsteps alerts the hero to Izuku jumping from the top of one shelf unit to another, and they're pulling even against each other, one above and below, so close-

Aizawa dives forwards, reaching for the silver acrylics. He over-reaches though, ploughing straight into the display. Vaguely, he registers that he's also crashing with something warm and bony- what?

"Dad, I think we might have tied."

"Fuck that," he groans, slumping more heavily into the uncomfortable pile of plastic bottle and teenager limbs on the floor. After all that, they tied...?

"Sirs! What on earth have you been doing?!" Fuck.

In a train car s good hour later, headed home for dinner and a nap, Izuku takes the time to message his group chat with his two best friends, seeing that they're both online. Good.

Sinnamon: [Guys, guys, I got banned from an arts&crafts shop today! banned for life!]

insomn-i-am: [the fuck green bean?]

Shouto: [I thought you were with your Dad?]

           : [And why do you sound proud?]

Sinnamon: [He's banned too! And it's kind of his fault anyway. Well, the race was his idea.]

             : [And I'm kinda proud? It was some good chaos. :D]

insomn-i-am: [ooh sounds like tea]

Shouto: [What race?]

Sinnamon: [A race to the paint! It was training!]

Shouto: [...Training? Paint?]

Sinnamon: [Yep! Evasive manoeuvres and situational awareness and stuff!]

               : [And paint for my room - I want to paint some constellations in there I think, Dad's letting me!]

Shouto: [And what bit of all that actually got you both banned?]

Sinnamon: [Oh. The fighting. And knocking over some displays. And the loud swearing. We had to clear up the stuff we knocked over. And buy the bits we'd                             broken, but luckily there wasn't a lot of that.]

Shouto: [I don't even want to know anymore. I give up.]

Sinnamon: [Aw Shouto don't say that! And honestly me and Dad gave up years ago. We're just messes.]

Shouto: [You don't say.]

insomn-i-am: [you haven't given up on me too, have you Peppermint?]

Shouto: [I suppose not. Unless you got banned from a store too?]

insomn-i-am: [Nope!]

Shouto: [Fine.]

           : [And Izu?]

Sinnamon: [Yep?]

Shouto: [I hope you won.]

Sinnamon: [Ha, I knew you hadn't given up on me! And it was a tie!]

               : [How did you two get on today? Liking your heroes?]

insomn-i-am: [StringMeister's Quirk really is similar to mine, even if it's more puppeteering than brainwashing so I guess their tips are pretty useful.]

                     : [and their agency has that resident cat i sent pictures of earlier]

                     : [its the best little demon to ever exist and i worship him now he is my new god]

Sinnamon: [mood though. I would die for our cats]

Shouto: [But the cats wouldn't care?]

Sinnamon: [Honestly, that's half the attraction.]

insomn-i-am: [best bastard gremlins. all of them]

Sinnamon: [speaking of gremlins, Dad wants me. Talk later?]

Shouto: [Of course Izu.]

insomn-i-am: [you got it green bean]

Chapter Text

On the second day of the class' internships, Aizawa has to leave Izuku for the late afternoon to attend a parent-teacher conference. Every year, he and the rest of the Heroics Department staff had to sit at tables and tell parents what was good and bad about their kids. And just hope they didn't get their heads bitten off.

So here he is, trussed up in a fucking suit, capture weapon reluctantly wrapped around his chest, under his shirt, a tad too tight but hey, at least he has it with him. He'd set his kid to napping at home - like the brat would actually do it, but meh he could hope - and then analysing some training footage of the current third years. It should keep him out of trouble at least. Although if he got a rant-text from Tsukauchi, Aizawa would not be surprised. In fact, the chances of his kid not resorting to bothering the man were very low, dammit, he probably should have warned the man that Izuku was going to be left unattended for several hours. He'd no doubt be mithering the detective the minute he'd finished his analyses.

"Shou!" His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden presence of Hizashi, loudly entering the hall. Sighing heavily, Aizawa slumped down further. So what if the plastic chair was far from comfortable and his back was screaming at him? He didn't want to be here.

"So, you looking forward to this? You ready? This'll be the biggest first year - well, 1-A - conference in, like, ever! It's weird having all of us here."

"Kami, Hizashi, shut up." Aizawa didn't bother to look up to see the blond's exaggerated pout, nor did he react when the taller man leant over dramatically to flop against him, weighing far more than he had any right to. Luckily, before the blond could begin to rant, Nedzu's voice rang out,

"Good, good, everyone's here! According to the camera feeds, Ectoplasm is already meeting all of the parents at the gates. Are we all ready?" There is a chorus of replies, ranging wildly in enthusiasm and volume. Nedzu beamed at them all from his table at the back of the room, facing into their large circle of furniture, the tables interspersed with tactically placed chairs. Honestly, this was pretty much just a social event. There were clusters of seating for the parents to talk to each other, then three chairs at each of the six teacher's tables, including Nedzu's. They were expecting about thirty parents across the whole class. Far too many, if you asked Aizawa.

At first, everything goes okay. For a solid forty minutes, Aizawa is alright, just talking to one or two parents at a time, mainly able to say that the kids have potential, they can be little terrors, but they're all clearly dedicated to heroism, even if many are struggling with developed arguments in Hero Ethics and Laws. Yes, Ururaka-san, your daughter is eating enough, her friends and Recovery Girl have been ensuring it. No, Sero-san, he won't need any tutors. Yes, we'll contact you if it does become a concern. No, yes, your son has made friends, no, yes, yes, your daughter's best subject is Literature, yes, no...

Everything is okay. Going well, even. Then it is, of course, Bakugou Mitsuki who starts it, from Ectoplasm's table:

"Well of fucking course! My shitty brat's the fucking best, after all!" Instantly, the dozen or so parents in hearing range immediately swivel to face the perceived threat.

"About that..." Jirou Kyotaku begins,
"My Kyoka is the best daughter a man could ask for, and-"

"Now see here, Kouji may be quiet but he'll be the best hero-" Aizawa's eye twitches. 

"Hitoshi has faced things none of your-"

"Shouto is the best-"

"Tenya is the most dedicated-"  All of the parents are joining in now and the underground hero would be stupid to miss how Hizashi is leering at him for his clenched jaw and developing glare. They're all wrong...

"Listen, my daughter-"

"Yours? My kid is the best-"

"Katsuki is the best little shit of them all-"

"Hey, Present Mic, who's the best in your class?" Someone asks, and everyone shuts up to listen to the pro's answer.

"Well, Jirou, Yaoyoruzu and Midoriya are all fairly fluent, although there isn't a single bad student in the class." There are various sounds of frustration and disgust, along with two victorious crows, then the question is turned on Nemuri.

"Tsuyu, Kouda and Tokoyami all have wonderful knowledge and artistic viewpoints. As do Midoriya and Yaoyoruzu. Why don't you ask Eraserhead here?" Immediately, thirty seven heads turn in his direction, several voices beginning to speak at once, almost every parent out of their seat and making far too much noise and they're all fucking wrong anyway, so-

"ENOUGH!!!  Your kids are fine, but mine's the best, so sit down and shut up," he glares, his classroom voice in full force to accompany the red eyes and floating ponytail. Every single adult does so. Then they stare at him in bewilderment for a few seconds. Nemuri and Hizashi are positively dying of laughter. And- oh, fuck. He should not have said that. Emotions were so fucking irrational, what the hell, why did he-

"Oh, Eraserhead, you've got a kid in the class too?" Ashido's mother coos. Then, less than a second later, she goes on, with a sly grin splitting her purple-skinned face,
"It must be, hm... that Midoriya-kun, right? He's the only one unaccounted for. Different last names?"

"Adopted. And safety reasons," he grumbles, knowing there's no way out of this now. Nedzu won't let him flee yet. 

"How sweet!" exclaims someone, with a round of approval going through the room. Now then, which would be more rewarding; killing his so-called friends, or killing himself? One got him out of the situation, but it also left the kid alone. Oh well, the fucking traitors it wa-

"Is there a partner helping you, perhaps?" Kami, they're almost as bad as the media. When the fuck did this turn into 'question Eraserhead' time anyway? It was meant to be a bloody parent conference!

"No, there is not. Now-"

"Wait! Your son must be Shouto's Midoriya Izuku! He and a Shinsou Hitoshi are all he ever talks about nowadays!" A white-haired woman suddenly pipes up. Ah, Todoroki Fuyumi.

"Yeh. Your brother's been good to him. Thanks, I guess," Aizawa grunts out begrudgingly. It's true, but saying it here is awkward, to say the least. Even moreso when two more women, one with navy dreadlocks and several piercings the same shade of bronze as her eyes and the other with a golden pixie cut and orange eyes, make their way over to the two.

"So you're Izuku and Shouto's families? Those two boys are a godsend - Hitoshi adores the both of them." Seeming to sense the more private conversation, the rest of the parents have begun to drift back off to separate conversations. But it doesn't stop Aizawa from dying internally because, fuck, these are the parents - well, one is a sibling, but whatever - of his kid's friends and Kami this is so awkward can't the ground swallow him up or a villain attack or could Tsukauchi please call him complaining about Izuku trying to interfere in a case again Kami please-

"He's never really had many friends before now, thanks to his Quirk, which is so stupid, really, but we've worried about it a lot. To know that our Hitoshi has two friends like your kids is such a relief!" Pixie-cut goes on, then flushes slightly, the colouration oddly orange, even on her fair skin,
"Oh - sorry! I'm Shinsou Maki! And this is my wife Shinsou Haruka - we're in your care!"

"Todoroki Fuyumi - I'm Shouto's older sister. And I'm in yours." Fuck, introductions as well.

"As you know, Eraserhead, Aizawa Shouta. Call me whatever," he hesitates a second, not wanting to be too rude, thinking through what to say,
"I hope Shin- ah, Hitoshi and Shouto can continue to be friends to Izuku. They... they've done well by him, so far, and he by them, I hope."

"I'd say so!" Maki chuckles, sharing a fond glance with the stoic Haruka,
"It's wonderful to see Hitoshi so much more open and excited about school and his friends. They've got lots of cute pictures together."

"Yes, I know what you mean," Fuyumi offers with a softer smile, clearly more hesitant,
"Shouto has always been very... reserved, but his eyes light up when he even just mentions about your boys. They clearly mean ever so much to him. Kami, after that USJ incident..." All four of them shudder at the mention of it, even Aizawa, though his is more subtle.

"We must thank you for that, Aizawa-san. You were willing to die for our children." They are the first words he has heard Shinsou Haruka say, and they sound all the more sincere for it. How illogical.

"It was nothing. My duty, my choice." He tries to brush it off, because of course he was willing to die for the kids; no point in being a pro and their teacher if he wasn't.

"And all the more worthy for it." And before he can try to dismiss her again, Bakugou Mitsuki interrupts, because apparently she has the hearing of a bat or some shit,

"Yes! You kept our brats alive, thank fuck!" And now, for some Godforsaken reason, he is the entire focus of the room again. Why?

"It was nothing. And they kept themselves alive. Then, if it wasn't for Izu- for Midoriya, I'd be dead. I only did what I could." But, judging by the instant uproar, that isn't acceptable.

But then, maybe all of his prayers to the cruel gods finally pay off, because his phone rings. And it's one of the only ringtones that can always get through, in case of emergencies. Thank fuck.

"Tsukauchi? What's happened?" he demands, voice urgent, phone to his ear in an instant and already standing to leave the room. The parents and teachers, suddenly silent once again, simply stare after him, with a few gasps and cries when he throws himself out of the abruptly-opened third-floor window, capture weapon naturally creeping its way out from under his suit with barely a thought or twitch. He doesn't spare the building or its inhabitants a second glance at this point. This could be an actual emergency after all.

[Aizawa, I swear, your kid is gonna be the death of me.]  Ah, or not.

"Are you okay-"

[No!] comes the frustrated shout,
[He's been tailing me for an hour already, sending me selfies the whole bloody time! I swear-]

"Anything else?"

[No, so there's that to it- No. No, I lied, because there's a new folder on my desk with one of those sakura post-its he uses. Aaaand, yep, he's solved another fucking case. But, hey, he's left me a coffee so he's somewhat redee-]  Tsukauchi cuts off into choking and spluttering, liquid splashing, and Aizawa sighs in sympathy.

"Was it tea?"

[Fuck, it was. Disgusting.]

"I know, he's done that to me a few times now. I'd say it was a prank, but he genuinely seems to be worried about my coffee consumption. Well, his version of worried. Heathen. And hypocrite, actually, because he and his zombie friend have almost as much," Aizawa laments, already hopping over rooftops to get to the police station. No doubt Izuku will be nearby. Actually, the brat is probably lying in wait for him like the little problem child he is. 

"Just be grateful it wasn't this hemlock tea he's developing," the hero goes on, already half-way there.

[The fuck?]

"You're telling me. His official hero name is going to be 'Hemlock, the Kidilante Hero' and he's really taken it to heart."

[You don't say.]

"Yeh, he's my problem child alright."

"You said it Eraserdad!" A voice chirps from a few roofs away. Aizawa only huffs, half-fond and half-exasperated, and hears Tsukauchi bark a little laugh of his own through the phone.

"Kiddo, what's this I hear about you harassing Tsukauchi?"

"Aw, you know Tsuka loves me! And anyways, I got you out of the conference, didn't I?" They're travelling side by side now, only a few blocks from the police station.

"You did," Aizawa concedes, ignoring the continued laughter from the phone he's still holding,
"On that note, got any ideas on where to bury two bodies? Full-grown idiots. Currently fully deserving deaths."

[Do I need to be hanging up? Plausible deniability and such.]

"I wouldn't bother Tsuka - we both know he'd never actually kill them!" Izuku giggles, voice still loud enough to be clear over the phone.

"I bloody would. They practically outed us to all of the parents."

"Outed-outed, or family-outed?"

"What do you think, brat?"

"Does that mean that the whole class is going to know?" Aizawa doesn't miss the note of fear in Izuku's abruptly quieter voice.

"Tsukauchi, we'll see you in a minute," he offers, barely waiting to hear the 'sure' before hanging up and shooting a hand in front of his kid to stop him.

"Izuku," he murmurs, itching to hug his kid but fully aware that at six in the evening they're pretty frickin' visible, not to mention on a roof opposite the police station,
"They're your friends and classmates, if - when, probably - they find out, it won't matter. We aren't the first father-son / teacher-student pair, and we won't be the last. It won't matter and none of them will ultimately care, so long as they know we're both fine and comfortable with each other. They certainly won't bully or abandon you over it, okay?" He knows that threatening the other kids right now won't help, even if he would mean it.

"But..."

"But?" He keeps his voice quiet, eyes no doubt stupidly soft.

"But nothing, I guess." For a long few seconds, Aizawa scrutinises his kid, meeting his gaze and assuring himself that the brat really was alright,

"Alright kid. Any worries, come to me, got it?"

"Yeh, yeh, whatever," Izuku dismisses, even as he offers a brief flash of a smile for his Dad, before darting past and laughing as he literally throws himself off the edge of the roof, quick to catch himself and clamber down by hands and feet, but not even considering how Aizawa freaks out for a fraction of a second. Kami, his kid.

Yet even when Izuku does give him heart-attacks and the undoubtedly-incoming grey hairs, he still reckons that the teenager is the best brat around.

For those who might have been wondering/unsure, here's an actual list of attending parents/siblings:

Iida - parents and Tensei (should make sense by this point, although he's still in a wheelchair)

Tsuyu - mum (her dad is looking after her siblings, as she's at her internship)

Ururaka - her mum, over a skype call on Tsuyu's mum's phone (they couldn't get there in time, what with work)

Todoroki - Fuyumi (Aizawa, at Izuku's urging and under his own gut feelings, didn't even contact endeavour)

Shinsou - both of his foster mums (these ones are lovely, promise)

Yaoyoruzu - both parents

Jirou - both parents

Bakugou - both (they have heard from Bakugou that Izuku is in his class, but he also told them to leave off, hence not flipping out at the name)

Kirishima - one of his Mums (the other is working, then picking up his twin younger siblings)

Sero - dad (single parent)

Kaminari - both (his older brother is off at college)

Ashido - mum and one of her two older sisters (only parent, older siblings basically like her second parents as mum was working)

Hagakure - both parents (her Mum is invisible in the light, visible in the shadows, it's weird)

Aoyama - mum

Ojiro - dad (mum looking after his little sister and their family dojo)

Satou - both parents (closed the bakery for the afternoon)

Tokoyami - both parents (his mother's limbs seem to be made of shadows, his dad can turn into a bird (any bird, but prefers crows, ravens and jackdaws))

Shouji - dad (another single parent, although his gran lives with them too and she's really cool)

Kouda - both parents

Oh, and Nami's brilliant comment that prompted this - I fell in love with the idea instantly! Thanks as always love!

Lol, imagine one day, just a whole parents' conference with the teachers, and almost none of the parents have been told that Eraserhead is also a parent.

Then, one of the parents is like: "No, my kid is the best fucking kid. Fite me."

Then a whole debacle of "no, my kid is best" starts and everyone's super passive-aggressive. Yamada and Kayama are trying super their best to not burst out laughing since Aizawa looks constipated trying not to blurt out: "No, my kid is clearly superior."

Anyways, the argument escalates, the staff just look amused, and one of the parents just look to the teachers and ask, "Hey, whose kid is best in your class?"

Yamada and Kayama just look at each other and say, "Huh, I don't know. Personally, I think [insert random student here] is the best. What do you think, E r a s e r h e a d?" (Because those two's sole purpose in life is clearly to annoy the fuck out of Aizawa.)

And Aizawa just can't take it and just slams his hands down, "nO, clearly m y kid is the best, nEmUrI-"

And he just realizes what he says. Cue the parents looking very shook.

Aizawa wants to simultaneously melt into the floor and commit two homicides.

Cutting through the silence, one parent says, "Holy shit. Eraserhead's probably hitched."

It all goes to hell from there, with people asking "who's the lucky girl" or "who's the kid", and any semblance of professionalism the staff previously held just evaporates then and there.

Izuku sees Aizawa getting home that night both tired as fuck, and asking how to hide a few bodies. Izuku doesn't ask questions as he silently pulls out a mug of tea for Aizawa (because "Dadzawa if you drink any more coffee, I swear, I'll be down another dad. No one wants that.")
---
I love this chapter. I don't know why, but I love Dadzawa fluff so much. wheoaoepjefwii You write it so well, too. h o w

Chapter Text

"Right brat, ImGlo is going to be meeting us today, so you can go over her speciality with her."  At the mention of another NightVeil hero, Izuku perks up, bouncing along in anticipation,

"Ooh, she's the one with the immunity quirk, right? Doesn't she go undercover a lot? Do you think she'll mind if I ask her about her-"

"Kid, she's acting as a mentor for you this morning, I'm sure she'll answer any and all questions. Quirk-related or otherwise."

"Kami, I hope so because boy oh boy do I have questions."

"Kiddo, please tell me those words did not just come out of your mouth. Disgusting."

"Caterpillar hobo, please tell me you aren't going deaf in your old age," Izuku returns, rolling his eyes at the man. Oh look, they could already see the training warehouse.

"It's going to be your fault when I start going grey kid. I can feel it in my bones."

"Oh what, your creaky old-man bones?"

"Shut it brat. Coffee will keep your growth stunted."

"No Eraserdad that was the attempted starvation."

"Geez kid."

"Hey, you mentioned it!"

"And you're the one who- Oh. ImGlo." The pair abruptly shut up, having just opened the facility door to see a woman with short ashen hair stood at a foldaway table. She turns to them at the sound of the door and his voice, a slight smile on her face.

"Eraserhead! And you must be Hemlock. Or should I say Kidilante? I've heard a fair bit about you over the last few years."

"Go with either," Izuku offers, genuinely not minding either way, before twisting to offer his Dad a saccharine grin,
"And Eraserhead, you've been telling people about little ol' me? How sweet!"

"Shut it kid, you already know I do," Aizawa grouches, hands getting shoved deep into his pockets, face hidden in the loops of his capture weapon. He wasn't fooling either of them.

"Kidilante, the entirety of NightVeil practically knows you already. Between Eraserhead here, and then him confirming that it was you who won the Sports Festival, we all feel like you've worked with us for a year now at least."

"Huh. Cool. And, uh, thanks I guess?" Izuku manages, suddenly feeling very naked without his mask on. He's gotten used to not wearing it at school, including for hero training, but talking to a hero that has worked with his Dad for years, who knows about him, puts him on edge. But everything he knows about ImGlo is good, and his Dadzawa trusts her, so he swallows away the tightness in his throat and asks the questions in his head that were begging to be answered.

"So ImGlo, your Quirk is a hyper-productivity of immunoglobulin proteins, right? So antibodies? And this manifests in an immunity to most pathogens and foreign substances, including both poisons and illnesses?"

"You said it," she replies, her blue eyes glinting with something like surprise. But there isn't anything negative, so Izuku ploughs on,

"Have you ever attempted to have your blood analysed? To see if there could be some kind of trigger or chemical within your cells that could be replicated and produced, particularly for those of weak immune systems or the like?"

"When I was..."

And so the two delve into a discussion on Quirks, ethics and biology for nearly an hour. Within the first ten minutes, Aizawa had wandered off to the parkour area and, when the two were finally winding down, Izuku having scribbled out another three pages in his latest notebook, the man heads to the shower rooms and comes back, clean, just as their last bit of debate concludes.

"Glo, you want to tell Kidilante what we're doing for the rest of the day?"

"Oh yes!" she says, smiling a little,
"As I know you're already aware, I do a lot of undercover work, particularly in drugs rings, or with overarching smuggling operations. It helps if the undercover agent can't be drugged up - prevents a good portion of the offense and interrogation potential of that sort of villain and therefore makes my job a lot easier. Well, simpler is probably a better term. Regardless, undercover work always requires a minimum of disguises to help keep me safe and the mission less compromisable. So: we'll be going through basic disguising techniques."

Another hour later, this one a whirl of simple make-up, basic accessories and some brief tutorials on adapting body language, and ImGlo deems Izuku versed enough in the foundations of disguises to go out and test the new skill. And so the three head out to a more densely populated shopping precinct, where Aizawa splits off from ImGlo and his kid, settling on a bench to wait the two out. It doesn't take a minute for him to pull out his phone and start addressing his email inbox, waiting for the text that will tell him-

[He's ready.]

Immediately, Aizawa casts his gaze about, taking a preliminary look about the crowd. Spotting any one person amongst the throngs wasn't exactly the easiest thing ever, but the gaps between individuals and little groups was enough to make it possible.

Now it would just be a matter of identifying Izuku in particular.

Theoretically, the scars, if nothing else, should make his job easy, but ImGlo had some kind of foundation or something, he couldn't remember, that smoothed out the skin and blended the tone in until, unless within a few metres, the difference was barely noticeable. So that put the scars out of the window. Of course, curly green hair that was still half-shaved should be another indicator, but wigs solved that. Freckles: make-up. That left posture, height, body language - the physical tells of what made his kid Aizawa Izuku. And so the pro hero keeps his eyes moving, takes in every little detail of any androgynous person that's relatively short.

That one? They're around the one metre sixty mark, long red hair, fairly masculine... No, they look too anxious, and their body proportions are wrong. 

The next candidate is a decent possibility, until they turn their head and the tentacle mouth-beard-something that makes up the bottom half of their head becomes visible, so that's another no.

Ah. But the third likelihood might just be the charm. A fairly boisterous gait, but still the right height and proportions. Shorts over black leggings, entirely possible... And then Aizawa sees how the person watches the crowd, how they take in every detail with an analytical blue gaze, and that clinches it.

Fishing his phone back out of his pocket, he sends a text off to ImGlo:

[Blue contacts, aggressive walk, white shorts and a pink jumper, plus a white wig. Make-up, obviously.]  It only takes a few seconds for him to receive a reply,

[Correct! We'll go again.]  Aizawa doesn't bother answering to that, simply going back to his emails and awaiting the next round of their training game.

By the time they've gone through another five disguises, almost every one improving upon the last - barring the fourth, which had been a disaster when Izuku's wig had legitimately slipped off because the idiot brat had been trying to wear heels and may or may not have toppled over spectacularly, which had Aizawa cackling, once he'd rushed over and picked his kid up, brushing him down to ensure he wasn't hurt, beyond a scrape on his palm and a lightly twisted ankle - it begins to take the pro hero a good few looks at his son to actually identify him. A lot of it was down to how much Izuku could adapt his posture and little tells, such as the awareness of those around him.

His habits had been a part of Aizawa's life for three years, so they were pretty damn recognisable. As they should be, in the man's opinion.

Regardless though, Izuku had been improving with each attempt, and had successfully pulled off a pair of even higher heels on the sixth round, which Aizawa refused to think about too deeply, but they worked to both mask his gender and his proportions, so they were clearly pretty damn useful for the disguise. By now, Aizawa has gone through his emails twice, then some lesson plans, and has now resorted to his photo gallery. The development was... startling. Only a year ago, most of the photos were screenshots of useful things, the cats, or selfies that his friends had stolen his phone to take. There were one or two images of a certain vigilante in full costume, usually with some particular villain passed out at his feet, but very few. But in just the last year, the vigilante had popped up more and more, including some selfies that the brat had taken, half of them with Aizawa himself scowling in the background. Yet it was the last month where the difference was stark.

Image after image, some selfies, some taken and sent to him by others, of his kid. Pictures of a yellow caterpillar with tufts of green tucked under a stubbled chin. A selfie of a certain vigilante limpeted onto his back. A solid dozen different examples of the kid interacting with the cats, sometimes curled up together, sometimes playing, and Aizawa's personal favourite of Kimchi in Izuku's hair, Cadaver draped around his shoulders, whilst the brat cradled Caitlin in his arms as the baby she was. The kid's freckled and scarred cheeks were lightly flushed and chubby with a bright grin, green eyes literally sparkling like something out a manga and it was fucking adorable. Even better than the couple of pictures of Izuku with his two friends at the cat cafe. Although there was another type of sweetness to those, to seeing his kid branching out and having good people in his life.

Aizawa's scrolling is interrupted by another text for the new round. Hiding his smile in his capture weapon, he looks up to scan the crowds once more. Damn, he loves his kid.

Late that afternoon, the two Aizawas take a train to Hosu and drop their bags off at their hotel for the night, before heading out to do an informal patrol of the area. In the morning, they'll be meeting up with Slipshod to go through some more formal elements of working as an underground hero, but there's no point lazing about for an evening when they could be patrolling.

Hence being on only a few streets away when three Nomu materialise out of whirls of dark mist.

"Shit-!" The two instantly race over the roofs towards the main street, unable to do anything but watch as one of the beasts destroys a train car, deliberately ignoring how Endeavor has turned up and is shooting out fire everywhere, instead focusing on the Nomu that looks far too much like the one from the USJ attack. It's closest to them, and also closest to a crowd of fleeing civilians. It needs to die.

"I go high, you go low?" Izuku asks, two knives at the ready.

"Deal."

And then they're attacking. Izuku leaps down from the roof, aiming himself to land on the Nomu's shoulders. Even before he's fully settled his footing, he's stabbing down, aiming for the brain, but the Nomu is shaking itself, trying to dislodge him and dodge the binds of Eraserhead's capture weapon simultaneously. Shit- One of the blades sinks halfway into the pink flesh and Izuku grins a little. But the other misses, skimming a shallow scrape down the side of its head, and then it's toppling over and Izuku has to jump off, unable to go for a second stab. As he flips forward to land beside his Dad, he yanks his knife back out with him, tracing an arc of foul-smelling blood after himself.

"Alright Kidilante?"

"Yeh. Don't think it's out for the count yet though. Unfortunately." And he's right, judging by how the Nomu is thrashing and turning on the ground, trying to push itself back onto its feet.

"It's harder to kill for some rea-" But Izuku cuts himself off, attention abruptly fixating on something he can hear from the sidekicks that are ushering civilians away a ways behind them, for all that he's still watching the downed Nomu.

"Where are Manual and the intern? We need every hand we can get here!"

"They were patrolling the alleys! If they're not back here yet, then-"

"Don't say it, you'll panic the civilians!" The first voice chides as the two move out of hearing range. But Eraserhead and Kidilante have heard enough as they look to each other, both grimacing, and the awful truth is rapidly dawning on them: Iida and his mentor are probably facing off against Stain right now. But the Nomus here need dealing with, and the two of them have the most knowledge and experience with the creatures. It's a catch-22.

"With the Nomus here, I can't - I'm more use - fuck, fuck, fuck," Aizawa takes a deep, steadying breath, and pauses a second to abruptly yank his kid against his chest, heedless of the chaos around them, clutching Izuku close and safe, because he's not going to be soon, but what choice does the hero have?

"Kid - turn on the GPS tracking on your phone. I'll follow and send more back-up as soon as I can, okay? Just- kiddo, survive. Save your classmate if you can, but remember that your life is worth something too, yeh? Kid?" And dammit, why is he close to tears, this is illogical, but yet so crushingly logical at the same time.

"Got it Eraserdad. Don't die."

"Don't die," he returns, and they both let go, exchange Cheshire grins, and turn in opposite directions.

It doesn't take more than a minute or two for Izuku to catch sight of three figures - two prone - in an alley somewhere below him where he's once again running over rooftops, one person stood over another, their gleaming sword raised. He knows exactly what he's looking at.

"Oi, Blood Kink, get the fuck off of him!" 

Even as he yells, distracting the villain, Izuku is jumping down, frying pan at the ready to parry any blades. It's wide circumference lets him use it more like a shield than anything else would, although it can be a bit unwieldy. Still though, he manages to deflect the katana that's aimed for his guts and lashes out a vicious kick that clips Stain across the back of the head and sends him stumbling to the side. Bounding back out of range, Izuku settles lightly onto the balls of his feet. Directly between Stain and his victims.

"Iida, Manual, status?" he demands. His classmate groans out a barely comprehensible,

"Paralysed. Largely alright. Don't let him cut you." But the lack of reply from Manual tells Izuku that the man is either dead or unconscious. Neither is favourable. Shit. Okay.

"Once you can move, you get Manual out of here immediately, understood? No idiotic heroics," Izuku warns the other teen, gaze focused on Stain, who is watching him in fascination, manic eyes roving across the greenette, taking in the utility belt, the frying pan, the determined expression, the fiery eyes.

"Have you come to die too, little hero? Because that's a wish I'm more than willing to grant." Well, this is going to be such fun.

Chapter Text

"Oi, Blood Kink, get the fuck off of him!" 

Even as he yells, distracting the villain, Izuku is jumping down, frying pan at the ready to parry any blades. Its wide circumference lets him use it more like a shield than anything else would, although it can be a bit unwieldy. Still though, he manages to deflect the katana that's aimed for his guts and lashes out a vicious kick that clips Stain across the back of the head. Bounding back out of range, Izuku settles lightly onto the balls of his feet. Directly between Stain and his victims.

"Iida, Manual, status?" he demands. His classmate groans out a barely comprehensible,

"Paralysed. Largely alright. Don't let him cut you." But the lack of reply from Manual tells Izuku that the man is either dead or unconscious. Neither is favourable. Shit. Okay.

"Once you can move, you get Manual out of here immediately, understood? No stupid heroics," Izuku warns the other teen, gaze focused on Stain, who is watching him in fascination, manic eyes roving across the greenette, taking in the utility belt, the frying pan, the determined expression, the fiery eyes.

"Have you come to die too, little hero? Because that's a wish I'm more than willing to grant." Well, this is going to be such fun.

"Don't bet on it, Voldemort." For some reason, that actually gets the villain to pause. Good, in Izuku's books, because it gives him the time he needs to tuck his phone back into the padded pocket of his utility belt. Hopefully help will be here sooner rather than later.

"...Voldemort?"

"Yeh, the Dark Wizard from a pre-Quirk fantasy series? Noseless, pale as fuck? No, not ringing any bells in that headband of yours? Whatever. Look, Stain, I can respect your ideals - you want to eradicate the corruption in society, right? In the hero industry? Then why are you killing and maiming people to do that? Including a student?"

"They're all fakes! They only want the fame and the glory, after the next publicity stunt to get them up the ranks, uncaring for true heroism!"  Izuku snorts at that,

"Oh yeh? What about underground heroes? They're hardly in it for the glory." 

"But they still buy into the hero industry. Only All Might is a true hero! He is above such petty things as money or fame, he-"

"Told a Quirkless boy to give up."

"What?" And again Stain hesitates, his righteous vitriol cut off, although his grip on his katana stays strong. Shame.

"All Might told a Quirkless fourteen year old to give up in his goals, that he needed a Quirk to be great."

"He wouldn't-!"

"Oh but he did. Not in so many words, but-" 

And maybe that was the wrong thing to say because, in between one breath and the next, Izuku is forced to twist and parry, his pan deflecting the wickedly sharp blade with a clatter of sparks.

"All Might is the only true hero! I will eradicate the fakes, starting with you three!"

"If you're so fucking determined, then stop making martyrs out of them all!" But Izuku is done with talking, for now, as they start their fight proper.

Stain is fast and unpredictable. But, that's Izuku speciality too, so when the man comes lunging towards him again, he sidesteps, sweeping low and wide with one leg, pan still ready as a shield. And good thing too, because Stain pivots, easily takes the brunt of the kick on his calf, even as he slashes with his katana, the force of the swing sending pins and needles racing up Izuku's arm. Damn.

"Bet you're into impact play 'n all, aren't you?" he taunts, then internally winces. Shit, he had to stop antagonising bloodthirsty people before it could be useful. All the same, Izuku slides one foot back, then jumps, flipping over Stain, parrying the katana that comes after him, and promptly jabs the butt of his frying pan into the back of Stain's head. The villain stumbles forwards a pace, then a second, and Izuku pulls a throwing knife. But even as he goes to aim it, the man recovers, turning back in time to deflect the knife away. So Izuku throws two more, in quick succession. And even as they fly forwards, so does he, frying pan swinging for Stain's wrists. It's risky, more chance of getting cut, but he needs to get the villain to drop the katana-

"You're fast, little hero."

Izuku manages to catch Stain's wrist with a solid blow, and the katana goes careening away, but the greenette doesn't dodge back fast enough to avoid the dagger that gets buried in his abdomen. 

"Fuck," he hisses. It hurts like a bitch, but it's not the first time he's been stabbed so he smoothly flips back, out of reach, one knee coming up to dislodge Stain's grip on said knife. If it stays in the wound, it'll probably deepen it, but that's better than bleeding out in the next minute. Or, you know, more of his blood spattering anywhere that could be licked. So the dagger stays.

And already they're fighting again, exchanging blows as Izuku manages to prevent any more stabbing or cutting. Although, he's only wearing Stain down, too busy trying to not get knifed to be able to land any finishing hits that would end their battle. So on they go, for a solid minute. Izuku will jump or twist or kick, trying to get a strike onto a pressure point or weak joint; Stain will dodge and deflect, suffering blows to less vital spots that will bruise him, slow him down, yet ultimately never be able to take him out by themselves. And all the while, the villain is landing hits on Izuku too, fortunately only the blunt force ones that the greenette can't evade when he's preoccupied with not being stabbed again. Still bloody hurts though.

"You're quite a feisty one, aren't you? And remarkably resilient too." The two have separated for a moment, weapons raised, stances ready, both recovering their breath some, eyeing up each other's developing weak spots.

"Look, Stain, Stendhal, whatever," Izuku starts, trying to buy as much time as possible,
"I know you're determined to cleanse society, but don't you think you should at least let the decent heroes, or the young ones that are still changing, go? Manual and Iida are both good people-"

"And yet the young one charged at me! The instant he saw me, he wanted revenge for his pathetic older brother, as though that were so noble a thing. I'm surprised he wasn't seeking me out himse-"

"And that's my point about martyrs, right there, you imbecile! You're only propagating the current heroic ideals! Like, what the fuck dude? You're literally juxtaposing your own-"

"I can see that you're intelligent, for a hero, yet so very blinded. Indoctrinated. You-"

"Stain, I was a fucking-"

Both Izuku and Stain pause when the sound of metal scraping against something hard rings through the alley. Shit, Iida, you had to pick now to recover? It couldn't have been whilst they were still actually fighting, oh nooooo...

"Iida, get Manual out of here! Now!" Izuku commands, feeling more than a little desperate all of a sudden because he doesn't trust Iida to do exactly that, and if the idiot tries to save him then it's going to make Izuku's job a whole lot harder.

"You-!" Before Stain can finish, Izuku leaps towards him. Now that the katana is off somewhere else in the alley, he holsters his frying pan and pulls out his bo staff in the time it takes him to be above Stain, deflecting away three of the man's daggers and bringing down an axe-kick towards the juncture of Stain's shoulder. But the man is too fast, and it only clips him. Still though, the knife that Izuku throws does stab the villain through the palm, as desired, and he lets out a grunt of pain, jumping back to avoid Izuku once again, yanking the knife back out as he does, ready to turn it on its owner.

Then they're both moving.

Izuku runs towards a wall and ricochets off of it, aiming to jab his staff into the man's guts, but ends up forced to bat away two more knives instead. In lieu of that, he lashes out with another kick. Stain sees it coming though, and grasps ahold of his ankle, trying to yank him closer, tongue reaching out grotesquely.

"DisgUSTANG!" Izuku yelps, half as a distraction tactic, and he brings his bo staff around for a brutal hit at Stain's throat that - thank fuck - lands. Immediately, the villain stumbles back, choking, releasing Izuku's ankle, and the teenager presses his brief advantage. One staff blow to the side of the knee, another to the sternum, a third- A strong hand catches the metal staff and twists it. Izuku is forced to jump backwards, yanking his weapon with him, lest Stain keep ahold of it and gain another mid-range offensive. For a long second, the two face each other down, eyes equally fierce, both battered, but neither anywhere close to giving up.

"Your little friend abandoned you hero, left you all alone to the mercies-"

"Oh shut it Blood Kink, you know I told him to."

"And yet he could have-"

"Izuku!"

The greenette's eyes widen as, from behind him, two very familiar voices call out for him. Shit! No, what if they get hurt, he can't- He'd meant to send the alert to Dadzawa, not them!

"Don't! Wait for-"

"Shut the fuck up Izuku!" Hitoshi chides, and suddenly they're both next to him, staring down Stain together. Both Toshi and Shou have their bodies angled inwards, protective, yet they can't look at him properly without taking their eyes off of the villain. So they don't notice the knife still in Izuku's gut. Good. And, as much as he doesn't want them here, facing down a serial killer, there is a part of Izuku that relaxes to have them warm by his sides.

"Two more naive students? My my, you are out in force today, aren't you?" The man smirks, long tongue darting out to swipe at the traces of blood around his mouth. Thank Kami that's not Izuku's. Now would be the worst time to be paralysed.

"Look, Stain, why don't you just let us leave?" Hitoshi asks, stepping half a pace forwards with a placating gesture.

"And why-" Stain falters, then goes slack where he stands, still hunched over, still holding a dagger with one hand reaching towards a pocket, but he comes to a stop all the same.

"Drop your weapons and-" 

Something goes wrong then, because Stain does go to drop his weapons, but the movements start and stop, his limbs juddering, and his eyes glint in the dim light. And then Hitoshi hunches over, a hand coming to grab at his own hair,

"Shit, no. Freeze him Peppermint, he's in pain and fighting!"

But it's too late.

Even as a veritable glacier of ice starts crackling towards him at high speed, Stain becomes fully cognizant again and throws the knife he had been reaching for, simultaneous with dancing back out of the way of the ice. And, unable to see their enemy now, Shouto has to stop his attack. The villain is too fast for it to have caught him. And that's proved right only a second later, when Stain comes leaping up and over the ice now obstructing the alley.

"You two, get back. Wait for an opening to strike long-range." When they both hesitate, Izuku none too gently shoves them back. They know he's a vigilante, they know he's got far more experience with actual fights where death is a possibility, but that doesn't mean they want to let him fight Stain in close quarters. Still though, Izuku is determined not to let them get hurt, so he pushes them further until they move by themselves, and has his bo staff ready in time to catch the spiked boot aimed for his own face. It's on again.

Stain darts at Izuku, and the greenette slips away to the side, trying to leave him open to another ice attack, but the man is wise to it and immediately jumps back, sneering at Izuku over the low barrier of ice that had just formed. He's less wise to the fire that follows it, yet the distance is too great for his instincts not to kick in and the villain evades that as well, jumping high into the air, then kicking off of the alley wall to rocket back towards Shouto and Hitoshi. Izuku's having none of it.

In a flash he's headed straight for Stain, bo staff abandoned where it has been used a vaulting pole to accelerate him towards the villain faster than he could reach Toshi or Shou. Izuku grabs one of his own knives and slashes it out towards Stain, who twists in mid-air to parry it. 

"Stay the fuck away from them," the teenager growls, and something in his expression has Stain grinning maniacally, long tongue darting out again.

"You are a true little hero, aren't you?" Before Izuku can reply or even think, Stain has thrown something away from them, a cry of pain echoing out, and then they're grappling, crashing into the ground, Izuku on top, and neither of them kept their grips on their daggers so they're wrestling on the floor, tumbling over each other in a flurry of punches and knees, never getting quite enough time to grab another knife. Izuku yanks at the man's hair, who barely flinches, instead retaliating by jabbing a punch towards Izuku's gut.

It lands.

With a gasping cry, Izuku rears back and away, hacking, hands scrabbling at his own stomach, trying to do something, he doesn't know what, just something, anything to stop the pain, stop the bleeding, but he can't do anything, and then Stain is on his feet above Izuku, another dagger in hand.

Aizawa is running. He can barely feel his feet and he knows that he's bruised up with probably some fractured ribs from the Nomu he took out, but right now all he cares about is getting to the location that had been pinged from his kid's phone. His fucking kid, who's fighting Stain right now; who could be dea- No, it doesn't bare thinking about. So instead, the pro leads the way through streets and alleys towards his kid, three other heroes and two paramedics following him, and he hopes to Kami that his son will last out for him to get there. That Izuku will survive.

Chapter Text

"You are a true little hero, aren't you?" Before Izuku can reply or even think, Stain has thrown something away from them, a cry of pain echoing out, and then they're grappling, crashing into the ground, Izuku on top, and neither of them kept their grips on their daggers so they're wrestling on the floor, tumbling over each other in a flurry of punches and knees, never getting quite enough time to grab another knife. Izuku yanks at the man's hair, who barely flinches, instead retaliating by jabbing a punch towards Izuku's gut.

It lands.

With a gasping cry, Izuku rears back and away, hacking, hands scrabbling at his own stomach, trying to do something, he doesn't know what, just something, anything to stop the pain, stop the bleeding, but he can't do anything, and then Stain is on his feet above Izuku, another dagger in hand.

But when Stain leaps forwards, it is towards the two shocked - horrified - teenagers stood only a few metres away, and he slashes out at the heterochromatic boy, catching him along the base of his neck, and the villain leans in, tongue lashing out and lapping up blood, even as he turns towards the brainwashing boy, not needing to look to see how the elemental kid has toppled to the ground, paralysed. Helpless.

"Really? Couldn't you have-" But Stain knows better already, and cuts the purple-haired one off by lurching at him, one hand reaching for the knife still buried in the meat of his shoulder. Smirking, the villain dodges a desperate kick from the boy, still reaching out. Stain proceeds to evade a punch as well, before he pivots, one hand curling around and finally grasping ahold of the knife and pulling it out, raising it to his face. Chuckling darkly, the sinister sound echoing through the alley like a jumping record, he meets the terrified, determined purple eyes of the teenager as he licks the knife. And that's the second one down.

"Oh true hero, your friends are down and out I'm afraid. Are you still so determined to-"

"Yes," Izuku chokes out, already knowing the question and in exactly zero doubt as to the answer. There's not a chance in hell that he wouldn't want to protect someone, let alone his two best friends, to his dying breath, if that's what it took. Just because he had people to live for now didn't mean that he would ever be willing to live in their stead. 

Hence pushing past the pain in his abdomen to straighten up and fall into a fighting stance.

"I will protect them with everything I have. So leave them the fuck alone, understood?"  Stain stares at him, taking in how his eyes positively glow with toxic defiance, how his face is set in a fierce scowl that manages to highlight the scar spanning one cheek. Izuku looks feral. And the villain is absolutely revelling in it.

"Ah but little hero, I can see that you are true and noble. And I will fight you, but I no longer want to see you dead. Won't you leave this alley and let me have these two?"

"What the hell do you think, Blood Kink? And wouldn't that be a direct contradiction to your apparent criteria for a true hero?"

"I suppose it would," the villain acknowledges, and his grin spreads inhumanly wide,
"It really would."

"Look, fucker, repeating yourself isn't going to make you sound more dramatic or whatever it is that you're going for-"

Izuku's words halt as the man blurs towards him. By now, they've both taken injuries, but it's undeniable that Izuku's are worse. And whilst some back-up had come, it is entirely possible none more was going to. So Izuku will have to end this himself, before things can get worse. That means finishing up quickly. And therein lies the problem; his mobility is beyond hampered right now. Yet Toshi and Shou come first.

It takes less than a breath for Stain to be practically on top of him, a knife in each hand, tongue lolling grotesquely, and Izuku steps to the side, deflecting the blade still in range with his own knife, pulled from beneath his hoodie. He's only got a few left now, and whilst he expects Stain can't have many more either, it's still all the more reason to end things now. 

Which is why he does something stupid.

Heart a racing war drum, breaths too shallow, Izuku sets a Cheshire grin on his face and croons out a low, genuine,

"You're going to regret hurting them." And then he's attacking. In lieu of his usual precise, lightning-fast slashes and stabs, Izuku follows pure instinct. Within a few seconds, he's scored shallow hits along the villain's arms and twisted his way around and past the man's return strikes, shifting and bending himself further than he should be, knife still stuck in his guts screaming at him, but he's not thinking, he's moving, he's attacking, he's protecting his people. And then one of Stain's strikes is aimed low, a second go at his stomach, but Izuku doesn't care. He's seen a weak spot. A chink in Stain's armour. So, as another dagger slashes along his hip, Izuku is lunging upwards with his own knife, and he cuts the tip of Stain's tongue straight off.

For a long, tense moment, nothing changes: neither of them move, nor speak, only staring into each other's eyes and recognising the blood lust to be found there.

But then Stain is toppling sideways, arching over like a felled tree; as he clatters to the ground, two more knives fall out of their sheaths, the monster's limbs frozen stiff and expression torn between fury and glee beneath the blood that is gushing from his open mouth. Stain is down. Paralysed. Holy shit - he's done it. It had been a stupid gamble, but somehow it had paid off. The thought has Izuku choking up a hysterical laugh, but he hurries to take every dagger for himself, cursing under his breath at the pain that's beginning to really annihilate his adrenaline, then stumbles over to his fallen friends, collapsing to his knees between them, not registering how they're talking to him through their own paralysis, only able to stare at them, at the shallow rise and fall of their chests. Because they're alive. Somehow, through the shit-storm of the last however long, they're alive and, whilst they're both bleeding, he can recognise that it's not too heavy. He protected them.

"KID!" A familiar voice, drenched in desperation, shouts for him, heralded by the echo of many footsteps, but Izuku can't turn around to look. He's too tired and everything hurts and he just wants to go home to his Dad and his cats where it's safe and warm and his vision isn't greying out, his head isn't pounding furiously-

Aizawa has been running through the maze of alleys for far too long, his legs protesting angrily, but it's all worth it for the sight of Izuku. Izuku, kneeling by his downed friends, hunched over, but his son, alive. Stain is on the ground a good few metres away from the three, but right now Aizawa couldn't care less. Well, if he happens to directly trample over Stain to get to his kid, then who is he to notice? It definitely isn't deliberate that he feels a cheekbone and possibly a wrist crunch ominously beneath his boots on the way past. Obviously not. (And if you ask him, it's a shame there wasn't a nose to crush as well.)

"Izuku, kid, are you alright? Kiddo?" Why isn't his son answe- But then he rounds to be in front of his kid and- well, shit. Shit, shit and shit again, because that's a lot of blood.

"Paramedics, here, now! Kidilante is bleeding out from an abdominal wound. Other lacerations visible, but don't seem serious. Someone else, restrain Stain, ensure his weapons are taken, and don't you fucking let him go! The paralysis will only last for so long!" Every single order is a harsh bark, but it gets people moving, and Aizawa helps the paramedics settle Izuku back so that the brat's head is in the pro's lap, cradled carefully, whilst they can access his stomach to deal with the knife still buried there. By Kami, what the fuck had happened? Well, that was a stupid question, he chides himself, but still. His kid-

"D-da...?"

"Yeh kiddo, I'm right here. Just stay still, okay? The paramedics are going to get a start on your- your stab wound whilst the ambulance is getting here, alright? Just stay still for me, both of your friends are fine, they're being patched up too, but I need you to stay awake. Got it brat? I know, I know," he rambles, carding a trembling hand through sweaty green curls, not even wincing,
"I'm normally all for sleeping, but we need you awake right now kiddo. I promise your friends are alright, so just keep listening to me, okay? Focus on my voice. You're safe now, I'm here, I'm staying now, we're all fine."

Holy fuck, why had he ever let his kid go off by himself? Yes, Izuku was incredibly capable. But this was his kid and now he's nearly dead, again, on Aizawa's watch and Kami, it had been utterly awful when they were still just vigilante and hero, before he knew that his son's favourite food was katsudon or that he called every cat he met 'love' and that he always wrote every essay twice, even during an exam, because he needed the chance to ramble before he could address the question directly and by Kami this is his son bleeding out-

"Eraserhead, sir, he should be relatively stable now. Temporary stitches and heavy bandaging will see him through for the ambulance's ETA in one minute, with an additional two minutes to get the stretcher set up in this alley, so please keep him awake and as comfortable as possible whilst we check over the other casualties... Eraserhead?" Aizawa drags his bloodshot gaze up to the paramedic who is still stood by them both, and offers a terse nod, before hunching back over Izuku and beginning to talk to him once more. His son's alive. And for now, that's going to have to be enough.

Four hours later, Aizawa is sat in a family room in the hospital, having seen his kid and other three students all sleeping in their hospital room, and having asked their main doctor to go through the teenagers' list of injuries with him. At least as their teacher and a hero he has a legal right to. So far, it's been relatively okay: Todoroki had suffered a nasty but simply cut just above his collar bone, at the base of his neck, but he would only need to keep his bandage on for about a week to ensure that everything stayed clean, and even that length of time was more a precaution than a necessity. Shinsou's wound had been a bit more serious, but only because it affected deeper muscle tissues in his shoulder and had nicked at the end of his collar bone, in his shoulder, with nothing majorly impacted. Whilst he would need a sling for a few days to support the half-healed muscles, there was nothing life-altering or even particularly long-term about the injury, albeit the thing might well scar which was... unfortunate, but honestly it's an occupational hazard that yes, Aizawa wishes didn't have to affect the kid so early in his career, but it can't be helped. 

Beyond the two major injuries, both Todoroki and Shinsou only had a variety of bruises, scrapes and shock to contend with. Iida and Izuku were where things started to get more complex and dangerous.

"Iida-kun will need non-urgent surgery in the near future to repair some damaged nerves in his bicep, which we'll send him in for as soon as his guardians grant permission due to its lack of said urgency, but it shouldn't be too major an operation and his recovery time will only be a few weeks, particularly with the aid Recovery Girl has offered. His other puncture wound, to the right thigh, wasn't severe; it didn't catch the major arteries there so whilst it wasn't superficial per se, it was a simple matter to have Recovery Girl heal up the worst of it, and then we applied some stitches to the more surface-level wound left over. Again, it should heal up within a few weeks."

For a moment, Doctor Hinata leans back, sighing, then settles forwards again, settling his elbows on his knees and steepling his fingers. Aizawa fights the urge to shudder at the tense atmosphere.

"It's Izuku-kun where things were most severe, as I'm sure you're aware. He was brought to me in shock, with a number of shallow tissue lacerations, bruises, abrasions and an aggravated abdominal penetration wound. And I use the word aggravated deliberately Aizawa-san. Your son must have been stabbed early on in his fight, because the damaged area was torn as much as pierced; he was incredibly fortunate that he only suffered from hollow viscus injuries, internally, considering how, frankly, messed up the wound was. Statistically, a penetrative abdominal wound is far more likely to affect, for example, the small intestine as it did for Izuku-kun, than it is to reach the stomach, but your son blatantly continued to jostle the area, knife still in place, and he appears to have been punched only an inch from the wound, most likely post-injury. And without Recovery Girl, his recovery would have been long and painful. As it is he will still require several sessions with her along with some relatively strong medication for a time. And for the next day or two, we'll need to keep him on an IV to be entirely sure that his small intestine is recovering well," Doctor Hinata pauses again,
"I trust I don't have to further express how lucky he was?"

"No," Aizawa chokes out, fists tight to keep his hands from shaking, refusing to let his voice break and waver,
"You don't, Doctor. Thank you for looking after my kids - all four of them. Is there anything else you need from me?"

"No, thank you Aizawa-san. I will be around the ward should you need me, or of course ask a nurse. Look after that son of yours, he's a remarkably resilient young man." But the pro hero can only nod as the doctor leaves. Holy shit. 

Aizawa comes into the kids' hospital room only a minute later, sees them all awake and beelines for the chair beside Izuku's bed, promptly slumping into it, burying his face in his capture weapon for a long few seconds, one hand coming up to massage at his temples. Then he looks up with a piercing gaze and speaks.

"They must be shitting me kid; you're fucking shitting me. Because you did not fight the Hero Killer whilst stabbed in the stomach. You just didn't."

'Sorry to burst your bubble Dadzawa-'  But the greenette pauses when Hitoshi blurts out a panicked,

"Wait, Izu, what? You were stabbed before we got there? I thought that happened when you were wrestling him?" Both he and Shouto are tense and sickly pale, even more so than the alarmed-looking Iida on the bed opposite the greenette's. 

'No, that was when I got punched next to the stab wound,'  Izuku corrects, utterly unrepentant. But, he isn't smiling, which is a relief. Maybe his brat is becoming a bit less callous about his own injuries. Not enough so, although it's a start.

"Kid, you're going to give me a heart-attack."

'Dad, it'll be the coffee, not me,' Izuku signs, expression belligerent, but there's a mischievous glint to his eyes.

"Whatever brat. Just- holy shit, just try not to get stabbed next time, okay? This was worse than bloody Scorpio and that cult put together!"

And there must be something in his tone, because everything about Izuku softens and gives way at his Dad's words, and he soundlessly raises his arms in the universal gesture for a hug. The pro hero doesn't hesitate to oblige his son. If he murmurs reverential nonsense and cards a slightly trembling hand through now-clean green curls then frankly, it's indulging himself too because right now the only way to convince his body that the kid is okay is to be holding said kid close, where he can feel the beat of his heart and the steady movement of his lungs. Izuku survived. And Aizawa couldn't be more grateful for the fact.

Chapter Text

Eventually, Izuku and his Dad pull away from each other to find the room's other occupants awkwardly staring out of the window or fiddling with their phones. Aizawa clears his throat, hiding a slight flush in his capture weapon, and speaks up in something closer to his usual gruff tone,

"Have all of you talked to your parents, or other relevant people?"

"Yessir!" Iida affirms, barely stopping himself from chopping his arms,
"I've been texting with both my brother and my parents; they were concerned but apparently the doctors have also contacted them and assured them that I am largely well. They will be visiting first thing in the morning! Oh, at which point they will consult with the doctor over likely further surgeries."

"Good. Do I need to talk to them, or will it wait until then?"

"I imagine it will wait Sensei, as a hero family we are relatively calm about such matters, although the worries will never abate, as my mother says!"

"Yes, I'm sure she does," the man smirks, then turns his attention to Shouto and Hitoshi with a raised eyebrow.

"My sister was alerted by the hospital. I've calmed her down and she'll come in the morning once she's talked to her work. My brother's away with college, so there's nothing to consider there."

"Right. Shinsou?"

"Same kind of story really. Mum and Ma will be in as soon as they can tomorrow. Ma was annoyed about not being able to come now, but they're just glad that I'm alright. Oh, they hope everyone's mostly okay and said that you, green bean, need to be more careful so you don't give your Dad an aneurysm or something." Izuku snickers quietly at that, even as said Dad slumps back in his seat with a silent huff. All four of them studiously ignore how Iida is gawping at them all, brain whirring but apparently coming up with nothing. After a few minutes, Iida splutters, no doubt with a hundred different questions, and settles on,

"Midoriya-kun, Aizawa-sensei, may I ask what was referred to when Sensei mentioned a... cult? And something called Scorpio?"

Aizawa and Izuku look at each other, something unreadable passing in between them.

'Dad, can you translate for me? I don't want to say. The truth that is, although I can't really bring myself to speak right now either way.'  Izuku takes a moment to be incredibly grateful that Iida doesn't understand sign language, because it'll make this a lot easier. And he hadn't even thought that Iida could have understood the conversations they'd already had. Kami, that would have been awkward.

"Sure thing kid. Iida, I'll let Izuku explain, but I'll translate anyway, alright?"

"Of course Sir! Thank you for indulging my curiosity and concern!" Aizawa simply waves him off, focusing on Izuku's signing.

"Izuku lived in a rougher area towards the outskirts of Musutafu for several years - it's around my patrol routes - and, quite frankly, the brat is a trouble magnet. Yes, yes I know you didn't say that- just let me add the details in kid - anyway, there's a lot of villainy around there and Izuku would end up wandering around at night for various reasons, at which point he got caught up in a good few villain attacks. One of which was getting kidnapped by a particular cult that had largely been sacrificing heroes, but they picked up a few civilians too, and on the night our raid was planned, they stumbled across Izuku and decided to take him. I was the one to cut him free and get him to medical help. Over the years, there have been a few other incidences but there was a singularly nasty villain called Scorpio - he stabbed Izuku with his stinger tail - scorpion Quirk - it took Recovery Girl to heal him. Not fun for any of us. There's been other more minor incidents, but nothing as bad as those two."

Knowing about Izuku's vigilantism, both Shouto and Hitoshi were able to fill in some of the gaps, but it didn't make it any less scary to hear about. Today really hadn't been anything like the first time Izuku had come close to death, had fought for the lives of himself and those around him, and it had taken this for it to sink in for the two.

"But Midoriya-kun, please say that you live somewhere safer now! You said during the Sports Festival that you've been adopted recently, so surely...?" Iida trails off, his conviction fading into genuine concern. In the face of this, Izuku nods emphatically, offering a warm smile.

"It's fine now, he's actually only a fifteen minute train ride from UA."

"Good, good. I'm happy for you Midoriya-kun!" Izuku continues to grin at that. It's nice to have someone, no matter how much or how little they know, be genuinely pleased for him having a family now.

Right at that second though, Izuku's phone begins to ring loudly, Iida looking scandalised as 'Hey Mr.Policeman' blares out through the room. The greenette however is grinning wildly as he grabs the device from his bedside table where it had been charging and accepts the call.

[Kid, that had better be you and you had better be alright! I saw on the news that Stain got taken in with UA students involved and I know Aizawa was taking you to Hosu tonight and you're a trouble magnet and those co-ordinates and for Kami's sake Izuku you had better be alright-]

"I-I'm okay Ts-Ts-Tsuka," Izuku croaks out, forcing the words through a tight throat, but still smiling softly all the same. It's nice that the man's so worried for him.

[Oh kid. You were involved, weren't you?] The detective's words have lost all of their panicked anger, melting into concern and resignation,
[Want to pass me on to Aizawa? We can let him explain most of it.]

Wordlessly, Izuku hands the phone over to his Dad, who accepts it with a deadpan expression.

"Hey Tsukauchi. We're in Hosu general, the hero ward; they're not letting anyone visit tonight, it's too late."

[And tomorrow?] comes the immediate question. The hero has to suppress a smile.

"If you can get off work, the brat would probably like to see you. Yes, yes, definitely, not probably - geez, kid, stop it, I'm literally on the phone," Aizawa chides, flapping a hand half-heartedly at Izuku who pouts, despite clearly being pleased that he got the pro to change his words with his exaggerated signed protests.

[I'll probably turn up around lunch then. I've got an interview scheduled first thing, but I reckon I'll be able to get the afternoon. How is he, really? It must have been pretty rough if he's nonverbal. And I assume you're mostly okay too, I saw you up against more of those bloody Nomu?]

"I'm fine. Two cracked ribs, Quirk-healed in the kid's ambulance," Aizawa ignores the glare he gets from Izuku at that because there's a reason he hadn't told his son about it,
"But the little idiot got stabbed in the guts right near the beginning of his largely one-on-one fight with Stain and continued to fucking fight. Got lucky though, no major organs badly damaged. Fuck knows how."

[You're right, he is a problem child. The other students? How were they involved? Don't tell me they were his friends...] Tsukauchi trails off, all to aware that it's a vain hope.

"What do you think? One of them and Manual were caught up with Stain, I had to fucking send Izuku after them to help whilst I dealt with the Nomu - I assume you got the location notification too? - yeh, two of his friends responded to that too, got involved, injuries not too severe. Izuku took the bastard down though. Little shit cut off part of his tongue to paralyse him with his own Quirk." And admittedly, there is a distinct hint of pride to Aizawa's voice at that because it really had been an inspired move.

[Damn Aizawa. We really need to stop leaving him alone.]

"You're telling me."

[Right. It's late, they'll need sleep, and so do we. I'll come over tomorrow, as soon as.]

"Sure. I'll pass you back onto the kid quick."

[Thanks Aizawa.]  The detective waits a few seconds, then speaks up,

[Hey again kid. That was stupid, okay, but I can see why you did it and I'm definitely glad that you're alright. I'll come and see you tomorrow, whenever I can get off of work. Sleep well Izuku.] And with that Tsukauchi hangs up.

Later that evening, once Aizawa had been grudgingly shooed away by nurses, although still managing to promise them all a lecture for the next day, the four teens are left alone in their room, and conversation inevitably starts up again, even though it's nigh-on midnight.

"I feel the need to apologise to the three of you! Whilst I didn't intentionally seek out Stain, I allowed my anger to overtake me upon seeing him. And then he- he paralysed Manual and he toyed with me, taunted me, until you arrived, Midoriya-kun. So, again, I'm very sorry for my actions!" Iida suddenly exclaims, awkwardly bowing as deeply as he could in his bed. Both Izuku and Hitoshi splutter a little, trying not to laugh because this is serious, but the sight is quite comical, so they can't entirely help themselves. Shouto merely cocks his head, intrigued.

Still, they control themselves after a few seconds, Izuku signing to Hitoshi,

‘Tell him he’s fucking dumb for attacking a serial killer rather than retreating.’

"Do I really have to tell him that?"

‘He deserve to know the truth,' Izuku insists.

“Izuku says you’re fucking dumb.” Hitoshi stops, then rolls his eyes at the warning glare he receives from the greenette, both studiously not acknowledging how Iida is gaping, red-faced. The brainwasher finishes up,
“Well, dumb for attacking a serial killer rather than retreating. Happy?” He adds, raising a cynical eyebrow at Izuku who only offers a shit-eating grin in return. 

'Not quite. Let him know he's an I-i-d-i-o-t.'  Both Hitoshi and Shouto snort at that, the former promptly dissolving into cackles that have him nearly rolling off of his bed.

"I-Izuku also wants you to know that you're an Iidiot!" He eventually sputters, then bursts into even greater laughter at the confused expression on the robotic boy, as though he doesn't know whether to be offended or amused. Knowing Izuku, he should be both.

Once the laughter has died, Izuku signs once more,
'But he is forgiven, so long as he agrees to go to some counselling with Hound Dog. Dadzawa or his parents can organise it.' 

Hitoshi parrots it back to Iida, minus the 'Dadzawa' wording, and for a moment the other teen hesitates, but then he slowly nods, clearly deep in thought.

"I think that such a thing may indeed be beneficial to my wellbeing and thus my schooling and future career. Thank you for the wise advice Midoriya-kun!" And the four settle down in companionable silence again. But eventually it is Iida who speaks up again.

"Midoriya, forgive me if it's rude, but I cannot help but wonder why Sensei was so familiar with you? And may I also ask how you became quite so... proficient in confronting villains? Even with him saving you several times, it seems as though you are incredibly close."

As Izuku signs, Hitoshi once again translates for him, a little grin on his face the whole time:

"Like we mentioned, I lived in a rough part of town for years. You pick stuff up. And, well, I've known Aizawa-sensei a few years now and he's helped me lots too, cared a lot more than the workers at the home or any teachers at school. So he adopted me. I'm legally Aizawa Izuku now. As Dad's civilian identity is fairly well-hidden, despite teaching at UA, we decided it wasn't too great of a risk to change my name." Izuku is smiling softly as Hitoshi translates, and all three of his roommates can appreciate the rare, ridiculously sweet expression on their friend.

"I see... May I ask when and why exactly you were adopted? I understand if it's too delicate a matter!"

"Well he didn't adopt me until after the USJ when school realised that where I had been living... wasn't exactly great. Beyond just the area."

"Ah. Thank you for trusting me Midoriya-kun! Oh, should I...?"

"Nah, no worries - I've been a Midoriya for the last fifteen years, it can wait until the whole class knows, or when we graduate or something. He's stuck with me now and that's what matters. Actually, you can call me Izuku if you want. We definitely count as friends now." Hitoshi's grin widens at that, becoming more shit-eating, and he tacks on,
"Aw, green bean, look at you, all grown up and making friends!"

Hitoshi receives a half-hearted glare for his efforts. But Iida is smiling at the greenette, who offers his blinding sunshine-sakura one in return.

"Of course Mido- Izuku-kun! Now, might I suggest we all attempt to sleep? It's been an incredibly taxing day, and a full eight hours, or as close as we can get to it, is optimal for a speedy recovery!" Izuku and Hitoshi exchange amused glances at that - they are both insomniacs after all - but the three oblige to settle into their individual beds, Shouto and Izuku dragging themselves out of Hitoshi's where they had gravitated once Aizawa had left. Who knows, maybe they really will manage to sleep?

Yeh, okay, that was a hard 'no' apparently. After an hour of laying in their quiet room, only broken by the occasional snore from Iida, Izuku sits up in his bed and turns towards his best friends.

'Can we sit together?'  he signs, the motions barely visible in the dim moonlight that's streaming in. Immediately, both Shouto and Hitoshi nod, the latter gesturing for them both to come and settle on his bed again. So they do, turning off and unhooking apparatus to sit cross-legged in a little triangle, knees pressed together, fingers interlocked, scrutinising every inch of each other's faces, unspeakably glad that they're all still there and well enough to do so.

"I'm very relieved that you're alright Izu. That we all are," Shouto breathes. The boy in question nods in agreement, a soft smile setting his cheeks flushing slightly, freckles seeming to glint in the silvery light, scar a stark contrast but somehow far from unattractive. Hitoshi, however, is silent, staring at Izuku as though he was something foreign. Then he whispers,

"I'm sorry Izuku, green bean, I failed. I failed you. We barely helped at all."

They all freeze at that, Hitoshi looking away, but neither Izuku nor Shouto allow him to unlace their hands.

Still though, after a painful time of silence, Izuku does extract his hands and begins to sign once more.

'I have three years of experience on you two, okay? And you've seen some of my scars; it's a lot when it comes to fighting with villains. A hell of a lot. Not to mention that my fighting style is better suited to that kind of opponent and situation than either of yours. So don't beat yourselves up over not as being fast or capable or whatever. You're both brilliant, but you've only just started out.'

"Then how come he killed so many seasoned pros Izuku? By that logic, shouldn't they have been able to take him down too?"

'They weren't protecting someone precious though.'

And for a long, long minute, none of them move, just sat in their little triangle, hands intertwining once more. But then Hitoshi straightened up, eyes blazing, barely keeping his voice quiet,

"Izuku, I was still utterly useless! All I did was fail to use my Quirk and get in your way!"

"I too was useless. We were distractions at best," Shouto concurs, meeting Hitoshi's similarly forlorn gaze.

They had attempted to come to Izuku's aid and, honestly, they had done little to help, instead only creating more opportunities for Izuku to get hurt, all in the name of protecting them. And neither of them could stand it.

"D-don't say that," Izuku mutters, choking the words out through a throat laced with vines of ivy. Almost blindly, he grasps at their hands,

"D-don't ever fucking c-call yourselves useless, ok-kay? I've been useless, I've been the D-Deku and it's shitty and unfair and s-so not true. You two are b-both so st-strong and kind and you c-c-came to t-try and help me, and it gave me s-strength and it-t's more than most people c-can say so just don't." His tone had started off defensive, righteous on their behalves, but it quickly descended into something more exhausted, more resigned, that tugs at their heartstrings. Because Shouto and Hitoshi understand what he's saying, they really do, but it's so difficult to quantify their failures with not having been useless.

Seeing how neither of his friends could bring themselves to refute or agree with him, Izuku offers them a wobbly smile,

"C-cuddle pile?" And how can they say no to that?

Chapter Text

Aizawa enters the hospital room of Izuku and his friends the next morning, technically an hour before visiting times (perks of being a certified sneak), to find a rather comical sight.

All piled up on Shinsou's bed, the trio are - despite no-doubt aching wounds because none of the idiot brats are still hooked up to their IV or pain relief drips - tumbled over and amongst each other. Shinsou is flat out on his back, head on the pillow, but one leg is stuck straight in the air from how Todoroki's lower half is tucked underneath, the two-tone hair hidden beneath Izuku's entire torso and somehow he isn't suffocating? Well, Aizawa can hear him breathing, so he must be fine. And then there is Izuku himself. Quite simply, he is sprawled atop the two taller teens, legs and arms akimbo, face smushed into the crook of Shinsou's neck, with a total of four arms wrapped around in him various ways. One - clearly Shinsou's - is curled naturally around his waist - that one is normal. One - obviously Todoroki's - is hooked just above Izuku's knee, bending his leg up awkwardly. The two other arms, and Aizawa can't honestly tell which belongs to which boy, overlap across Izuku's back, their fingers interlaced. And then his son's arms, respectively, are curling down across Todoroki's side at what should be an uncomfortable angle, the other tossed out to the side, but then bent back to tangle through Shinsou's hair. Damn, these kids...

If they don't realise that they like each other soon, the pro is going to have to engineer something because by Kami the pining...  With a soft sigh, and a glance over at Iida to ensure that he too is safe and stable, Aizawa may or may not snap a few photos then trudges over to Izuku's bed and slumps on it himself. If the kids are all still sleeping soundly, then he might as well doze some himself. He trusts his own instincts to wake him up should any threats arrive.

Of course, the pro hero hadn't accounted for non-threats arriving. And so, he blinks awake to find the trio sat up, legs still intertwined, and signing with Shinsou's mothers and the Todoroki sister. Iida is still asleep.

"Dadzawa!" Izuku exclaims, immediately switching out of sign, face open and bright for all that his voice is hushed. Both he and the pro carefully ignore how all three of the other adults startle at the sound of his voice, even as he continues talking aloud,
"Honestly, napping in a hospital room - where's your shame?" he teases. Glad that the brat is coherent and clearly feeling better, Aizawa smirks,

"Probably with your common sense. And self-preservation. And dignity."

"Damn, that's harsh. Triple-whammy," Izuku huffs, voice still quiet in respect for Iida but his grin is wide and sincere, and he leans into the hair-ruffle that Aizawa reaches carefully past Shinsou to offer. Still unaccustomed to their rather high levels of banter, the rest of the group watch on, the women all clearly a little shocked. But hey, they're not frowning and their body language is more bewildered and amused than wary, so who cares.

"All three of you feeling alright?" Aizawa asks, allowing his voice to soften a tad from its usual gruffness. He receives two 'Yes sensei' s and a shrug in return. Hm.

"Problem child. You should still be on your IV for a start..." he grumbles, quirk flashing into brief activity. Izuku just offers a little grimace,

"I am okay." But then he switches to sign, regardless of everyone in the group being able to understand it,
'Just very aware of my injuries.'  The pro grunts at that, but then decides, for once in his life, to brighten the mood.

"Well, you were fine earlier, judging by how I found you three."

"Wha- Dad-!" But Aizawa has already pulled his phone out and is pulling up the photo, brandishing it in front of the teenagers and Cheshire-cat grinning at the instantaneous blushes and the round of embarrassed groans.

"Aizawa-san, would you-" Maki-san begins, no doubt wanting to see. Aizawa keeps his grin.

"This is what I found earlier. Cute, aren't they?" he teases and turns his phone so that the three women can see. Maki-san coos softly, eyes glittering with something between adoration and sadistic amusement. Meanwhile, Haruka-san allows her neutral face to fall into a little smile. Fuyumi-san gasps once, then visibly brightens, turning soft eyes to her little brother.

"Aw, Hitoshi, you and your friends are adorable!"

"Mum! Ma, please, tell her!" he exclaims, with much the same tone as Izuku had only a minute before.

"It's good to see you so affectionate with each other," Fuyumi offers, clearly directing it largely to Todoroki, but her smile is for all three of them.

Once everybody calms down a little, and Aizawa somewhat begrudgingly is given three more phone contacts so as to be able to share the photo with the three women, it is Izuku who first speaks up. Or, well, starts to sign.

'Dad, what's the official statement about- uh, about everything?'

"Currently, that four UA heroics course students were involved in the take-down of Stain. And that more would be released pending statements from the involved parties. So nothing much beyond media speculation so far."

'So Endeavor hasn't managed to claim all the credit yet just for being in town.'  It's a statement, not a question, and sometimes Aizawa sees that glint in Izuku's eye and has to suppress a shudder, because chaos is sure to ensue. Right now included.

"No, he hasn't."

'Cool. Because I was acting fully within the law as a Quirkless, beyond the fact that a certain clause in our internship contracts allow us to act in defence of vulnerable persons without explicit and recent permission from our mentors.'

"Why wasn't I aware of that?" Aizawa demands, straightening up because what the actual fuck?!

'Because it only references an obscure law from the dawn of the hero industry, rather than directly wording it within the contract. And it was amongst a bunch of other, similar references that are more mundane. Nobody bothers to double-check all nine of them. Normally they wouldn't need to be invoked anyway, and Nedzu likely wouldn't choose to under most circumstances.'

"And you know this because?"

'I read the contract of course. And I somewhat know Nedzu-sensei's thought patterns.'

"Brat," he chides, albeit without any bite,
"But, that is good news."

'Yep! Is Tsuka on the case?'

"No. I believe it's one of the local superintendents."

'Awww,'  Izuku pouts. Aizawa doesn't miss how his brat's two friends flush a little at the sight.

"With a clause like that, it won't matter."

'Well, no, but any excuse to see Tsuka is a good one.' Aizawa only snorts at that, then realises that their conversation is being observed with no small amount of confusion.

"Ah. We have a good friend in the police. Detective Tsukauchi. Unfortunately, he isn't involved in this case. But, brat, don't forget he's visiting this afternoon," he explains. Just because they all understood sign wouldn't make 'Tsuka' or a few of the less common words comprehensible.

"Oh yes, I suppose you would. I know father is somewhat familiar with certain officers," Fuyumi offers, and Aizawa resists the urge to scowl. But then, as though the conversation topic had summoned them, there comes a firm knock on the door. Aizawa is immediately on his feet, capture weapon at the ready, shunting the door open with one curl of his scarf.

"Tsuragamae-san," he states, backing down, only Izuku able to make out his surprise. They'd been expecting somebody of lower rank, but, well, considering how high-profile the Hero Killer was, not to mention the involvement of three legacy students, this probably shouldn't be a shock.

"Ah, Eraserhead, good day - woof. I see you are here to visit your students and intern. Hello all, I'm Tsuragamae Kenji - woof - Chief of Police for the Hosu region." The students all return his small bow, although Izuku winces with the movement.

"Is - woof-  now an acceptable time to receive your statements on the events that occurred?" He goes on, looking around the room, eyes catching on Iida, who is currently still asleep.

"I believe so," Aizawa returns, already plodding over to Iida to wake the boy up.

Ten minutes later, Tsuragamae is sat on one of the visitor's chairs, Aizawa perpendicular to him, thus effectively in between the kids - of whom all four are perched along the edge of Shinsou's bed - and the dog-headed officer. As much as he trusts both parties, his protective instincts may or may not be in overdrive. The other guardians have been politely dismissed to the cafeteria for the next hour or so.

"So, may I ask each of you to recount your paw-spectives of Thursday evening? Woof. And, if you take no issue, I shall be recording your statements." Each of the students nod, and then Tsuragamae pulls out a voice recorder and establishes who is there - barely even raising an eyebrow at Aizawa's correction of Izuku's last name - the time and such.

"If one of you would like to begin?"

There is a long moment of silence, then Iida sighs softly and starts to speak. He tells of how he had read his classmate's analysis of Stain, how he had been in the alleys with Manual on patrol and how, upon seeing Stain, he had rushed forwards in blind anger, Stain shooting past him to take his mentor straight out. And then Iida had been even angrier, had begun to rant at the villain, who had only sneered at him, taunting, then allowed him to try and attack, riling him up even further. He had been a fool. With a voice choked with shame, Iida tells of how his actions were selfish and sloppy, attacking again and again even as it was obvious that Stain was letting him get close, only to rebuff him again. He hadn't landed a single hit in the five or so minutes that Stain had been toying with him. But then the villain got bored, stabbing him in the thigh, followed by the bicep, and finally standing over him as he lay paralysed, ready to sever his spine.

Just when Iida had given up hope, a voice had come from the alley entrance. Izuku had arrived. Once his paralysis had worn off, Iida followed his classmate's orders and ran with the unconscious Manual to the first medical help he could find, although it wasn't very quick considering his own injuries.

And so on they go, telling of how everything had unfolded. Izuku's voice immediately gives out, feeling vulnerable without his vigilante self, but he takes a deep breath, finds his hands clutched by his two friends, staring into his Dad's blazing eyes, and he draws confidence from them all, easing himself into talking without his stutter after only a sentence or two. When it is Shinsou's turn, his voice also wavers, fluctuates, fighting him, but once Izuku tugs him to sit sideways on the edge of the bed so that one of his arms can be easily stretched past Izuku to be held by Shouto too, he also finds strength in his friends' comfort and talks quickly,  without the warble of before.

"Thank you for your statements. Whilst I commend you for your heroic actions, I am afraid that for all of your bravery, your names cannot be announced to the pawblic - woof. The heroes directly involved - yourself Eraserhead, along with Manual and those who arrived with you - will be credited with the apawhension.  Also-"

"Sorry sir, but no. That won't be necessary," Izuku interjects, a small smile on his face. It isn't a pleasant smile; there are far too many teeth gleaming with far too much righteous malice for that.

"Personally, my status as Quirkless exempts me from all of the possible vigilante laws applicable. Furthermore, there is a clause in our internship contracts that references Article 17, subsection 4 of Heroics Law section 3. It permits internship students - referenced to as any hero in field training - to act in defence of vulnerable peoples regardless of explicit recent permission for Quirk use and individual action. As such, we were well within the law and thus are fully able to take the credit we deserve. Although I would assume that it would be better to officially state that we were simply 'acting as expected of us' - vague wording won't promote awareness of the laws and thus should limit similar future circumstances, which I expect is preferable for the police. Of course, should we not, in light of this, be awarded the credit we alone deserve, then I'm sure Nedzu and I can organise something to rectify such a matter." And damn, that's a threat, no matter how bland Izuku's tone might be.

"I see," Tsuragamae begins. But then his ears prick up as though excited,
"I must confess to being rather paw-leased at that. I apologise for my ignorance and I - woof - shall see to it that the official statement credits the four of you as it should, although I expect it will be only under your hero names, for safeguarding pawposes. Do you have any further questions?" he offers to the clearly surprised students. Aizawa is the one to speak up though.

"What is happening to Stain now?"

"He has already been transpawted to Tartarus, where he will remain throughout his trials. Woof - I doubt he will ever leave."

"Good," the teacher can't help but reply, tone vicious, and certainly not missing the slightest bit of tension falling away from his kid's shoulders.

"If there is nothing else, I shall leave you all to your recoveries. Thank you four, for all of your efforts and bravery." And within a minute, the Police Chief is gone.

"Mi- Izuku-kun?" Iida inquires, clearly hesitant. The greenette only leans forward a little to see around Shouto.

"Again, thank you very much for saving my life - even when I was foolish enough to be blinded by my own anger. I didn't wish to interrupt the statement with it, but please don't doubt my sincerity!"

"Ah - uhm, it- it really is okay. J-just our job, right?" And if that wasn't forced through a tight throat, Aizawa wasn't a Dad.

"All the same!" the boy exclaims, arms starting to chop before he flinches and stills himself,
"This is the second time that you have saved an Iida life, in only a few weeks. You are truly a magnificent hero! It is only right that-!"

"Iida - p-please-" Izuku begins, looking uncomfortable, but is saved by his Dad interrupting.

"The word foolish is more than correct. Iida, I expect you to take these events to heart, understood?" Aizawa pauses for a moment, waiting for Iida to raise his head and look at him, to see just how serious the pro is being right now,

"Your choice to give in to your emotions made you act recklessly. That same recklessness forced me to send my son after you, alone. In doing so, I compromised his safety and potentially the safety of the civilians in the Nomu attack, where Izuku's knowledge and prowess would have been of almost the same use as my own, given the USJ attack. Not only that, but had Izuku been any less capable, or Todoroki or Shinsou not helped him when they did, it might have been his life that was compromised. And that is utterly unacceptable. Following the path of a hero will result in dealing with deaths, both of allies and villains, but an internship student should not yet have to see that, let alone be the one stabbed in the stomach."

Aizawa paused then, letting his words sink in. Even when Iida's eyes began to gloss over with tears, his hands fisted at his sides, the pro hero didn't flinch, merely observing. But, after a long minute of silence, he finally speaks up again,

"Between your own injuries and your shame, I believe you have largely been punished enough. However, I will be assigning you a four thousand word essay on the situation and how else you could have dealt with matters to limit bloodshed and trauma, due in for next Friday, although that can be extended if medically necessary. Additionally, you are to write an apology letter to Manual and his agency. Is that understood?"

"Y-yessir!" Iida replies, his usual vigour is lacking. Although, he clearly isn't lacking in conviction, a steely undertone to his cowed tone.

Apparently satisfied with that, Aizawa nods curtly and turns his attention to the other three teenagers.

"You three also acted recklessly - kid, you should have tried to find another way to fight that would have better compensated for your injury; Todoroki, Shinsou, the two of you should have brought adults with you or better yet, sent them in your stead. However, I can see why the three of you acted as you did and your injuries, again, have you suffering more than enough. Izuku, I want a thousand word essay on the dangers of being stabbed and the consequences of being injured during a fight. Todoroki, Shinsou, a thousand word essay on the same subject as Iida's. Have I been clear enough?

He receives two quiet agreements and a nod from his kid, so he considers his job done for now.

Honestly, he's still just overwhelmed with relief that his son and students are alive.

Before any new conversations can be started up, the door rattles open again to admit the Shinsous, Fuyumi and the three newly-arrived Iidas, chatting quietly to each other. But upon catching sign of their son, the latter dart forwards,

"Tenya!" And the blue-haired boy finds himself tucked into his father's embrace, dragged up off of the bed, his mother stroking his hair from beside them. Ignoring how his glasses are digging into his face, the teen buries his face against his father's shoulder and fights the urge to cry.

"Oi you two, let me at him!" And his big brother sounds so normal, all playful and teasing and caring and Iida bursts out of his parents' arms to awkwardly lean down and receive the hug from his brother.

"Ten-nii," he starts, choking.

"Hey now Tenya, it's alright. We're all fine, okay?"

The rest of the room's occupants are tactfully averting their gazes, signing quietly amongst themselves to give the hero family a semblance of privacy. Aizawa has carefully scooped his kid up, despite half-hearted pokes to his face and neck in retaliation, and deposited the brat on his own bed in preparation for the nurses, who should be coming round fairly soon, and who will be able to hook his idiot kid back up to his IV. Which, considering it contains the pain medications and nutrients to support his stabbed small intestines, is pretty important.

'Problem Child, I'm not having you neglecting your health, understood?'  the man signs, starting the moment his son is tucked half-under the bed sheets. And for all that Izuku rolls his eyes, he doesn't protest anymore. Good, Aizawa thinks viciously. About time for him to be able to actually look after his kid, after the shit-storm of the last twenty-four hours.

Then the whole room gets distracted by two nurses coming in to the already-crowded room. All of the family members shuffle into corners and against walls to get out of the way, Fuyumi trailing Shouto back to his own bed before doing the same, and Aizawa is quick to explain,

"These three decided to remove their IVs and monitor pads for some midnight conversations. Apologies." Even though his tone is brusque, the words themselves earn an amused giggle from one nurse and a warning glare to the room at large from the other.

"Please make sure it doesn't happen again." And Aizawa has a glare of his own at that, aimed at his kid in particular,

"Trust me, it won't." If he deliberately times his words to distract said brat from having the needle slid back into his arm, then nobody would dare pick him up on it. Least of all Izuku himself, who merely scowls at his Dad. The hero raises a single eyebrow in challenge.

"Idiot brat."

"Old bastard."

"Gremlin."

"Hobo."

"Devil chi-" Aizawa cuts himself off, abruptly very aware of their audience, and can only glare at Izuku again. Such a Problem Child. All of the other families are going to think they're so weird and dysfunctional and that they're-

His thoughts are halted by a gentle tug at his sleeve. Rolling his eyes, the man perches on the edge of his kid's bed, glad that the stricter nurse has moved on to Shinsou, talking to the purple-haired boy's parents, and allows Izuku to settle against his shoulder, face turned just enough into him to be breathing right next to the capture weapon.

"Want it?" he murmurs, barely audible. Izuku hesitates, then shakes his head, just once. Aizawa hums, low and deep in his chest, knowing that it always helps the kid relax a bit, a sign that they're safe, that they're together, and shifts a tad to better accommodate Izuku's weight.

It's reassuring for both of them. They're fine, alive, safe, and that's more than either had been expecting for a while there.

Twenty minutes later, both nurses have left, one with signed paperwork for Iida to have the non-urgent surgery to help repair some damaged nerves in his arm, leaving the four families to sit around, at first rather awkward. Until Tensei speaks up.

"So Shouta, when were you going to tell me you had a kid? It's Izuku, right? Did you know that Shouta shouted that you were the 'best kid' at the parent-teacher conferences on Tuesday? Or that, when we were still in UA-"

"Tensei. Don't think I won't tell your brother about that time you tried to tell that gi-"

"Okay!" The man yelps, jumping in place in his wheelchair, flushing brightly,
"Mutually assured destruction, I get it!" And here he turns his attention back to the junior Aizawa,
"Your Dad's harsh, eh?"

Nobody is expecting how Izuku scowls fiercely at that, trying to curl himself in front of Aizawa protectively.

"Quite the opposite, actually." His tone is ice and iron, and several of the room's occupants shudder at it. Not to mention the heavy miasma suddenly seeming to fill the air.

"Oi, kiddo, he was joking. Mostly. I told you I've known him since we were your age, okay? 's fine. And stop ruining my reputation, you brat." Izuku seems to blink awake at his Dad's words, the malignant aura disappearing, and he tilts his head back to smirk up at the man.

'I bet I have more blackmail than him already. Particularly if I dug through the UA archives that I know I can access.'

"You wouldn't... You would, who am I kidding? If you do, get some on Zashi and Nem too, alright? They deserve it more."

'Only because it means more blackmail overall. Oh, wonder what I could get on All Might? I know Nedzu keeps everything from pretty much ever, and definitely the things he finds amusing, so I can guarantee that there'll be something in there. I'm gonna have to do that now-'

"Kid, maybe keep your scheming away from everyone else," Aizawa advises, the ducks his head to murmur near-silently,
"Look at them; the poor people are confused." 

Izuku snorts at that, and a cursory glance around the room shows that those who understand sign are looking pretty confused, which is most of them. Whoops.

"So green bean," Hitoshi starts, breaking the awkward silence,
"Got any more stories about Kimchi trying to maul you? I'll trade you for when Dusk got stuck up a telephone pole." And with that, the room gradually falls into easy conversations, a few different pockets of interaction forming and developing, all based around the kids and the family members that are wrapped around them. Iida's parents, after helping Tensei up onto the bed with his brother, have settled in two of the visitor's chairs available, talking with Fuyumi where she's sat beside Shouto, one hand stroking against his wrist. The heterochromatic teen is signing Hitoshi's more reserved mother about... soba? Whilst Hitoshi's other Mum is sat beside him, one hand threading through his wild purple hair, as she watches Izuku and her son sign together, the greenette curled up against his Dad.

Of course, the group gets interrupted again. It only takes an hour or two for it to be lunch time, and nurses wheel in four meals, with Iida Aoi, Fuyumi and Shinsou Haruka heading across the street to a bakery to pick up some food for all of the adults, and maybe a treat or two for the kids too. Before they return though, another visitor turns up.

"Hello, is this- kid!" And Tsukauchi is rushing into the room, scrutinising Izuku and his visible bandages, not to mention the couple of bits of medical paraphernalia he's hooked up to.

'Hey Tsuka!'  is accompanied by an impish grin. But the detective only frowns at him, looking dubious, and turns to Aizawa.

"Is he really fine?"

"Except for being an incurable idiot- don't poke me, brat, I'm right - he's more or less okay. Stab wound 'only' hit the small intestine, plus lots of scrapes and bruises, a few minor cuts too. Damn lucky."

"Well, some of it was skill," Tsukauchi comments, reaching down to ruffle Izuku's head with a fond smile. The greenette, for all his pouting, does lean into the touch, eyes bright.

"Some," Aizawa allows, and there is a proud glint to his dark eyes. They know him too well to be fooled by his gruff tone.

They're family after all.

Oh, and here's some art! The first one was very kindly done by JasonTodd_fangirl - hopefully it worked! Gotta love a Dadzawa and his boy.

And this second one is mine (please ignore how short Hitoshi's legs are and the fact that none of them have bandages, oh and that how they're laying isn't entirely accurate - I drew it without referencing my own writing, so...) because I had to draw these three boys being cute and fluffy.

Chapter Text

Shouto and Hitoshi are both discharged the next day. Technically so, in the morning, but they both stick around as long as visiting hours last, Fuyumi and Hitoshi's parents aware of their plans to do just that, and they spend a long few minutes hugging Izuku tightly when they have to leave him and Iida for the night.

And if Izuku then spends a near-sleepless night trying not to toss and turn, clutching one of his favourite knives that Dadzawa had snuck under his pillow for him, then they don't need to know. After all, they'd only worry.

Regardless, Izuku is discharged after lunch on the Thursday, or what was meant to be the fourth day of his internship, and his Dad drives them both back home, a prescription of painkillers in the glovebox and a total of three knives in the main pocket of Izuku's hoodie... possibly a fourth tucked in a holster underneath said hoodie as well. Forgive him if he's feeling a bit vulnerable, okay? Trying to sleep in a busy, unfamiliar environment with only a single injured friend for company wasn't easy. Hence Recovery Girl not being able to heal him any more this morning. 'Too little energy', she'd said. Izuku had been suitably unimpressed but thanked her for making the journey all the same. At least he got a few gummies for the trouble.

And now they're home at last. Dadzawa is clearly trying not to hover as he walks right beside Izuku, up the few flights to their floor, the teen enjoying the fresh air, Aizawa then ushering Izuku into the flat ahead of himself and locking the door once again behind them. Immediately, Izuku is swarmed by three fluffy, purring bodies that tangle around each other and his legs, meowing up a storm. Giggling quietly, and very, very glad to be home, Izuku carefully gets down onto his knees to greet the three. Once they're largely satisfied, Izuku shuffles to sit back, feet now in front of him, and starts to lean forwards to unlace his shoes. Yet before he can get halfway there, his Dad is crouched in front of him and unlacing the black hi-tops with precise movements, and gently pulling them off rather than tugging at them like Izuku himself would have. Something about the care and attention his Dad takes in such a stupidly small and simple task has Izuku tearing up a little.

"Thanks Dad," he rasps out. He may or may not be annoyed with himself for getting a bit emotional, but at least he's not having a panic attack or anything, like he used to once he finally felt safe after a particularly harrowing vigilante experience.

To be fair to him, Aizawa doesn't falter or hesitate at seeing his son getting watery-eyed, only reaching forwards to gather Izuku up into his arms, making sure to support his back and prevent any painful or stitch-bursting contortions of his abdomen, and ferries him over to the sofa, all three cats following like little ducklings, and then the man is settling down, son in his lap, cats gathered around.

"You're alright now kiddo, you hear me? You're safe, alive, at home. Your friends are fine, Manual's fine, I'm fine. It's all over now, so just let it out, okay kiddo? I'm right here, I'm not letting you go again..." 

And so on it goes. Both of the Aizawas lose all track of time as Izuku silently cries, suddenly so very aware of how on edge he'd been, but even more so of how close Iida had come to dying, not to mention his two best friends, all because he sent out his co-ordinates to every one of his contacts, not just his Dadzawa. And Kami, his Dad, who is still murmuring quiet platitudes to him, every single one fully sincere; who is carding a steady hand through his hair, scratching occasionally at his scalp, with his other arm keeping Izuku tucked in to his chest, held close and tight and secure, but never suffocating. Izuku is safe. Izuku is home. 

Once Izuku has calmed down fully, he takes a long moment to bury his face even further against his Dad's neck, curls catching on stubble, breathing into the man's capture weapon, before he leans back a little and swings his feet to the floor.

"These bandages are the fancy waterproof ones, right?"

"They are. You going to shower?" Aizawa asks, fighting the urge not to accompany his kid to the bathroom. Yes, Izuku is hurt. But the hero knows that hovering over his son will do no good, and only make the Problem Child feel suffocated and uncomfortable. So he stays on the sofa as the kid shuffles into his room to grab some more loungewear - of which that 'Put Your Hands Up' radio shirt is definitely stolen off of Aizawa, who had admittedly been reluctantly forced to accept the bright yellow thing in the first place - and then shuts himself in the bathroom. But, to his Dad's relief, he doesn't lock the door. If Izuku somehow slips and hits his head or re-opens his stitches, it would be better not to have to break the door down to get to him. Although he wouldn't hesitate to do so.

Two hours later, Izuku and his Dad have settled at the kitchen bar table, each with a plate of macaroni cheese because, as the man had said in his defence, it was 'easy to both eat and cook and wasn't it meant to be comfort food anyway?'. Which, yes, in America, but Izuku wasn't going to turn down a home-cooked meal, not after having lived off of hospital food almost exclusively for the last day and a half. Not fun.

"Anything you want to do over the next few days kiddo? As your internship technically isn't over, I thought we could go out and do some analysis of civilians tomorrow or Saturday, but if, in all seriousness, you'd rather not, then that is absolutely fine. Understood?" And perhaps that sounded a little too forceful, but the pro didn't want Izuku to push himself at all. Partially after his minor breakdown earlier, but also partially because Izuku was just generally proficient enough in most areas, at least in comparison to the average student or even hero, that they could afford to take an actual break for a few days. Or at least, a non-hospitalised break.

"I don't think I'd mind the analysis. I mean, I enjoy it, and fresh air is probably good?" Izuku paused for a moment, not noticing some of the pasta falling off his fork,
"And I was thinking about coming up with another code, or updating this one. Maybe-" and he faltered, gaze unusually hesitant as he looked over to the man,
"Maybe you'd help?"

"Sure. If you think you can keep up with me at least," Aizawa teases, trying to lighten the mood. Judging by how his son snorts loudly, then shovels in more food, it worked. Good. It wasn't too often that Izuku felt insecure around him, or uncertain of his place or of being allowed to ask for things, but the tendency did crop up sometimes and it crushed something in Aizawa's chest a little every time. He hated it with a passion, utterly loathed that his kid was so unused to being given things and being allowed to ask for even basic items that he often had to force himself even with Aizawa, even with the person he trusted most.

Now, don't get Aizawa wrong. It isn't Izuku's fault. And the hero had spent three years giving the brat food, coffee and weapons and, in more recent months, anything that he could possibly want, from notebooks to clothes to a home, just to help him, to get him accustomed to the fact that yes, even Quirkless little Izuku deserved kindness. Of course, they were both fairly minimalistic, but that wouldn't stop him from buying an arguable excess of certain items. If said items happened to be practical things like high-quality notebooks, well sue him. He knew what his kid liked.

Regardless, that gave them a thing or two to occupy them for the next few days. Although, he should probably warn the brat...

"That's a point kid: Nemuri and Hizashi are probably gonna burst in here at some point tonight. Well, when school's over at least. They've been texting me incessantly, the idiots."

"Aw, you love them really!" Izuku sing-songs, back to his usual self. Aizawa doesn't allow himself to slump in relief.

"If I do, then they don't deserve it. They're about as chaotic as your class, but I can't escape them," he scowls. It sets Izuku off though, as he devolves into snickering.

Mission accomplished.

Unsurprisingly, when that evening comes, there's an enthusiastic knock on the apartment door, and then it's being unlocked to admit a trilling Hizashi and Nemuri, who simultaneously proclaim conflicting cries of,

"SHOOOUUUU! We've come to see you and the little listener!" Along with,

"Shouta, darling, how are you and your little one?"

Aizawa is already slamming his head back against the sofa, grumbling under his breath, because why did he ever give them spare keys to his flat? Izuku for his part, after a startled second, calms right down and begins to giggle, turning slightly to bury his face in his Dad's stomach, from where his head is in the man's lap, a calloused hand still comfortably buried in his hair. Neither greet the rowdy intruders.

Izuku, phone buzzing in his hands, turns to face the ceiling again, glad that his Dad is keeping a soothing hand in his curls, deciding not to bother sitting up. If the two heroes are comfortable enough to barge in, then they can be comfortable enough to settle themselves in too. Instead, the teen holds his phone up in front of his face and reads through the last few texts from his friends, not really registering which chat they're in.

Shouto: [Izu, are you doing alright back home?]

Sinnamon-roll: [Yeh, no, Dad's with me. He's not got any patrols for the next few days now.]

Insomn-i-am: [good. you taking your meds?]

Sinnamon-roll: [Yes, yes. Two every six hours and Dad's keeping an eye on it. You don't need to worry.]

Insomn-i-am: [thats not gonna stop us]

Sinnamon-roll: [Toshiiiii!]

Insomn-i-am: [Green beaaaaan!]

Sinnamon-roll: [Shou, Toshi's being mean!]

Insomn-i-am: [aw Peppermint, you can't think of telling me off when its Izu and sensei who got banned from a store!]

Shouto : [Hitoshi's right Izu, I really can't]

Just as Izuku starts to type out an indignant reply, pouting, a whole slew of messages come through. What..? Oh. Oh shit!

Yelping, Izuku flails, phone going flying and hitting flesh with a soft smack, even as the teen covers his face and groans in mortification.

"Dare I look?" Aizawa drawls, mostly amused as he dangles Izuku's phone above his face. He must have caught it then.

"Might as well," he grumbles. It's too late now, and it's not the worst conversation that the man might have seen. Still pretty embarrassing that he hadn't noticed that they were in the class group chat.

"You're ruining my reputation again," the man eventually grouches, having scrolled through. Well, at least nothing about 'sensei' and 'dad' being the same person had been said. It's one secret kept. Over group chat would probably have been about the most awkward way for that to come out, so small mercies.

"Not intentionally!"

"Kid, the hellspawn all now know that you and I raced each other in an arts and craft store and have been banned. For life."  The two Aizawas studiously ignore Nemuri and Hizashi's laughter at that, instead having a silent conversation. Having Izuku's head in his Dad's lap isn't the easiest way to have said conversation, but it suffices. Then his Dad hands his phone back and Izuku starts typing out a brief and slightly adapted explanation, manages to dodge any questions about his injuries or his mystery Dad's patrols, then begs off on account of needing to eat an early dinner. At which point his classmates turn to Hitoshi and Shouto for explanations. Oh well.

At least the full story about Stain's takedown hasn't come out yet either.

At some point, Hizashi leaps up and bustles around the counter to the kitchen, no doubt rooting around for something to cook them all for dinner. It's Nemuri who speaks though,

"Hey Shou, can I take Izuku shopping with me this weekend? Since you two have been getting banned from shops and all."

"No."

"Aw, come on Shouta, you can let us - Izuku's practically my nephew at this point!" The woman's pouting morphs rapidly into a wide grin.

"Really?" Izuku interrupts, abruptly sitting up with a slight flinch, genuine disbelief lacing over a happy undertone. Only Aizawa notices the mischievous glint in his eyes and has to hide his own smirk at the look. He doesn't know exactly what's coming, but he can guess. It'll be hilarious.

"Aw, of course sweetie, this grump is our brother, which makes you our little nephew!"

"Can I call you Uncle Nem then?" His expression is so innocent, all wide-eyed and hopeful, so completely unaware of what he has just done. Aizawa knows better.

"Ah, uhm, sweetie, you see-" Izuku begins to tear up at her hesitance, lower lip pushing out into the most adorable pout,

"Is- is it not okay?"

"Aw sweetie-" Nemuri falters, looking  over to Aizawa for help, only to receive a warning glance in return. Right, no hurting the kid's feelings. Fuck.

"Of course you can Izuku! I'd love that!" She chirps. And well, she is glad to have the term of endearment but also what the fuck? Why is he calling her uncle? Does he not know? How can he not know? Before she can drag Aizawa away to interro- question him, Hizashi bounds back over from digging through the fridge to be instantly greeted with a,

"Auntie Zashi!" The blond freezes, sputtering, utterly shocked. Yet again, Izuku falls into a pout, looking so genuinely upset and regretful that Aizawa almost believes it and is tempted to drag him back into his lap and comfort him. But then he looks into his kid's eyes and can see still that gleam of sadistic delight. His wonderful brat.

"H-hey little listener!" 

"It's okay, isn't it? I mean Uncle Nem is letting me call her that, so I just thought..." Izuku rambles, trailing off, but Hizashi is already speaking up to reassure him,

"No no no - it's great little listener! We're honoured, aren't we Nem?"

"Yep!" she rushes to confirm, and it's comical how they both slump with blatant relief when Izuku beams widely at them, bouncing in his seat with pure delight. And to be fair, that delight is genuine, and only half of it is mischievous. Kami, his kid.

"Okay Auntie Zashi, Uncle Nem! And Dad, why can't I go shopping with Uncle?" Aizawa has to fight back his laughter again. This is too good. By Kami, his friends' faces - so crestfallen and yet so happy, so conflicted and yet not daring to say a word lest they upset Izuku and incur his own wrath. Truly brilliant.

"Because both you and I will regret it instantly." 

"Why?"

"Because she's a monster kid, and don't let her fool you. She will drag you around at least a dozen shops - you will carry all of the bags, you will try on a hundred or so things that you hate and would never buy, you will have to be around too many people in too small a space, you will be forced into things unmentionably tight and colourful. But hey, if you really want to go..."

"Shouta, don't be so mean! Sweetie, I promise I won't be too pushy! And I'll even drive us there so we can dump the bags whenever we want and I know you need more clothing anyway."

"We got some stuff on Monday though."

"Izuku, sweetie, I assure you that whatever you have is not enough, not if you're half as minimal as your Dad over there. What if you want to go on a date?" Izuku spit-chokes at that, going bright red, and Aizawa freezes, a jerky movement of his arm almost resulting in his phone going flying like Izuku's had. Fuck.

"Um, Nemuri, maybe don't-" Hizashi tries to intervene, but it's too late.

"Kayama Nemuri, you will not intervene in my son's- my son's love life, understood? He does not need your kind of help. Also, any inappropriate clothing will be burnt. In a pyre. In your living room. Whilst you're not at home. Am I clear?"

"But Shou-"

"Did I fucking stutter?" Izuku may be giggling - cackling, honestly - behind his hands, but Nemuri is clearly sweat-dropping. Hizashi looks torn between laughing and dying of second-hand petrification.

"Fine. Nothing to make your green bean even cuter." That abruptly shuts Izuku up as he straightens, then winces before speaking,

"Oh! Uhm, can you- I- that- I don't mind a nickname, but, uhm, maybe not that one?" Nemuri levels him with a questioning look which, to her credit, is suitably concerned,

"I didn't mean anything bad by it sweetie."

"No- I, uhm, I know. I just- that one's already in use, I guess?" The woman does a one-eighty switch, immediately leering salaciously at the greenette,

"Oh-hoh, is it now? Who by I wonder."

"My friends."

"Friends?" she purrs, but leans back and lightens up once he starts to flush again,
"Very well. Instead I shall bestow upon you the title of Baby Broccoli!" 

"Wha- Uncle Nem!"

"Yes Baby Broccoli?"

"I- You- That-"

"You alright there Baby Broccoli?" And now Aizawa can't help but cackle. Izuku levels him with a death glare in return.

"If I'm Baby Broccoli, then what does that make him?"  he accuses, pointing wildly at his Dad, who is still outright laughing. The brat promptly starts poking him in the shoulder because he's a little shit.

"Hm... Good question. I think Kale Father. It's the hair." And now it is Izuku who dissolves into cackling again whilst Aizawa glares viciously. Kami, this family.

"W-wait Uncle Nem!" Izuu splutters, still laughing,
"D-don't y- you mean k-k-kelp?!" The words are almost indecipherable, but they all stop for a second before Nemuri groans.

"Ugh… Nope! No! I meant kale and I'm sticking to it, no questions asked!" But now all of them are snickering, Aizawa included. What a mess.

Once they've finally all calmed down, Aizawa is the first to speak coherently,

"Kid, you have prior obligations next weekend anyway, remember? Well, provided you don't re-damage your wound too much."

"Oh, shit - that's gonna be so good!" Izuku grins, suddenly all manic energy and sadistic glee far more unholy than what Aizawa had noticed only minutes earlier.

"Wait... what's happening?" And to be fair to him, Hizashi actually sounds cautious. He should be.

"Nothing much. Just a plan coming to fruition. Gotta love getting the Hero Commission in a headlock with poison already in their bloodstream." Izuku's tone is nonchalant, almost blasé, but his eyes are feral.

"Wha-?"

If Izuku and Aizawa dissolve back into slightly maniacal cackling at the horrified expressions of the two heroes, then who can blame them?

Chapter Text

Coming in to school on Monday isn't the best fun ever. Friday had seen the 'full' story of Stain's takedown being released across both national and international news sources. And with that, references to how Manual and hero-in-training Turbium had been attacked, the latter managing to rescue his mentor and bring him to medical attention thanks to the cover of other hero-in-training Hemlock, who was later joined by Entropy and Psiren. It fortunately didn't list their respective  wounds, which Dadzawa was begrudgingly pleased about, although somehow some of the journalists had gotten ahold of Stain's announcement that Hemlock was a 'true hero'... Kami knew what that was going to result in, long-term, but for now it went largely ignored by the Aizawas in favour of dealing with colleague and classmate reactions.

Put it this way, the group chat had blown up.

Izuku had left the majority of the explanations to Iida and his two best friends, lurking but not really sure what to say. He'd never really dealt with concern from people before, or at least not people his own age and it was... disconcerting. But, not unpleasant. He'd smiled a little upon the initial awed disbelief, flushed when Shouto had interjected into Hitoshi's explanation with a 'Izuku was very brave. He faced Stain one-on-one for most of the fight', flushed further at the round of congratulations, exclamations and good-natured scoldings from his classmates, and finally typed something himself to simply say 'Aizawa trampled Stain to get to us - broke a wrist and his cheekbone' which had been met with a genuine virtual round of 'hip hip hooray' which had Izuku sniggering and shoving his phone in his Dad's face.

Aizawa had just groaned for a solid minute, then buried his face in Cadaver's fur.

So, coming in to school on Monday was a... thing. A palaver, honestly. Predicting the media crowd that would swarm the front gate, Nedzu had Hound Dog, Ectoplasm and Present Mic stood at the gates, keeping the majority of the reporters back and helping the kids get in relatively undisturbed. Aizawa had declared that he and Izuku were driving in today, but last night had offered to Izuku,

"Kid, you can ask Todoroki, Shinsou and Iida if they want to me to pick them up from the train station tomorrow morning. Should keep the media off of you guys if they've managed to figure out who exactly you are, or puzzle it together from all of your injuries."

Hence the poor man now leaving the train station car park with three extra children in tow. Seeing them all in the back seat together, slightly squashed with their school bags in the boot, was actually quite amusing, and he has to bury a smirk in his capture scarf more than once. If Izuku notices, he isn't being a complete brat because he doesn't say a word.

"Iida," Aizawa says, cutting the boy off mid-thank you rant (his second one this morning),
"Did the corrective surgery go well? Tensei told me not to worry but he's an idiot." And poor Iida splutters for a moment, clearly caught between denying such a fact and agreeing with it, but eventually just opts to answer the original question,

"Yes Sensei, thank you for your concern! I am to wear the sling for approximately one more week, then it should be sufficiently rested and recovered for me to return to a relatively normal training regimen."

"Right. Good. And the two of you?"

"Just bandages to keep the wounds from opening back up. Recovery Girl healed it almost completely," Shinsou replies, then adds on,
"Same for P- Shouto."

"Hn," is all Aizawa manages, focusing fully on the roads once more, but his shoulders are a little less tense and Izuku fights the urge to call him out on being such a Dad.

Getting out of the car, once in UA's underground car park, well-hidden thanks to its entrance a street away from the school itself, Izuku holds in a flinch. Because he'd realised earlier, when leaving home, that he'd twisted a bit too much and pulled one of his stitches, but he hadn't felt any blood, so he'd honestly just ignored it. Now however, he must have done the same thing again, because another stitch or two had just done... something. Glancing around, his Dad has just unlocked the boot for everyone to get their bags, so they're all distracted, and Izuku probes around the edge of the wound for a moment. It feels like it's bleeding a little, and it hurts more, but there's no blood soaking through to his shirt, so it's probably not that bad, right?

Yeh, it's probably completely fine.

Okay, Izuku decides, sitting down at his desk with a swarm of his classmates crowding in on their corner, maybe it's worse than he thought it was. Because it's hurting even more now, quite badly in fact, with a burning type of pulse in time with his heart, and there's the gross sensation of some of his bandages becoming damp. But hey, he reassures himself, his shirt still isn't bloody, so he'll just wait until break to go to Recovery Girl. That's only about three hours, it'll be fine.

With that decided, Izuku tunes back in to the loud chatter around them. Luckily, it seems like most of the initial excitement and energy over the matter had been expended over the group chat during the weekend, but several of the other students were still talking about it, and loudly so. Izuku listens, nodding or shaking his head here or there, but then the discussion turns to Stain as a person, and Kaminari put his foot right in it.

"Stain was a bad dude, but he was still kinda cool though, don't you think?"

The whole class starts, several people starting to speak, but they all freeze when Izuku snorts derisively, atmosphere suddenly heavy, the greenette standing up with deliberate stillness. Everyone watches him.

"Kaminari-kun, is a man that did this really cool?" And he yanks his shirt up, revealing a thick set of bandages around his stomach, a clear blood patch having soaked through at one point.

It's silent. Still.

"Izuku, you better not have burst your stitches!" Hitoshi abruptly scolds, tone slightly too shrill in the gobsmacked quiet. Shouto is already on his feet, trying to usher their friend out of the room and to Recovery Girl but the shorter boy stands his ground, still talking,

"I understand that many people admired him, and some of Stain's ideals weren't incorrect, per se, but his methodologies were cruel, temporary measures that would never have been enough to fix the corruption in society. He killed or maimed forty five heroes, including us four. We were lucky not to sustain life-changing injuries. As is, I've still got at least two sessions with Recovery Girl. Iida needed a surgery to repair his arm. How cool is he now?"

The entire room is stock-still, suspended, staring in horror at Izuku. He so rarely speaks aloud, let alone without a stutter and with so much chiding conviction blatant in his tone. And seeing the bandages, then considering the various plasters, bandages and Iida's sling that can also be noticed... Well, it's pretty obvious that they've been through the wars. Or fought with a serial killer.

"Midoriya, go to Recovery Girl. I trust you can get there by yourself?" Izuku nods, flashes a brief smile at his teacher, who had arrived at some point during his speech, and his two friends before leaving the classroom. Everyone is still stood around in shock, even with Aizawa-sensei having interrupted the atmosphere.

"Right hellspawn, into your seats. I see we need to have a conversation." Everyone rushes to sit down, already sensing the angry aura emanating from their homeroom teacher. Understandable, really.

"First of all, when somebody has been through a potentially traumatic event, you should not force the conversation topic on them, understood? Four of your classmates nearly died and that should never be taken lightly. Consider how you felt when other students or strangers discounted your experiences of the USJ attack as luck, a lie or not a real threat," Aizawa stops, waiting for his statement to sink in.

"As for the matter of Stain and the relative morality of his choices..." The hero sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose for a second, although barely hesitating in his speech,
"We will eventually cover this in-depth in Ethics and Law, but I'm going to give you an overview now: there is corruption in our society. The hero industry is no different." Here he does pause, taking in the expressions of his hellspawn.

"It is down to us to be better, to stay true to both our ideals and laws. It is up to you, as individuals, to know which you will prioritise when situations arise that force you to compromise one or the other. Even vigilantes deal constantly with this balance, more so than us heroes; in fact, working with vigilantes is one example of how we may bend laws to better do our job, particularly for Underground Heroes. But," and his voice turns to steel, harsh, unyielding, but still supportive. Then he goes on.

"There is a point at which bending laws becomes breaking them, and when ignoring ethics becomes outright reprehensible. Stain - once the vigilante Stendhal - crossed that line when he first killed, when he first crippled. Yes, some heroes are corrupt. Some are negligent, some have personal motivations that might be condemned by society. It can be argued that their motivations or attitudes don't matter, so long as they complete the job to the best of their ability; so long as they don't exploit their status for personal gain. It is a strongly-debated matter and one of the utmost importance, yet it often gets ignored in favour of the bright lights and money of hero rankings and glorious fights.

Over the next three years, you will begin to explore what, for you, as individual, independent heroes, will be acceptable and for what reasons. You will cement what type of hero you aspire to be. And not one of my students in the last nine years has ever turned 'bad', has been willing to compromise their morals so utterly as those like Stain. I will ensure that none of you will be the first."

A long silence descends over the room. The class are all variations of thoughtful, astounded and determined. Aizawa finds morbid fascination in seeing the differences in their attitudes already and to know where that could take them in the years to come, and the man has genuine faith that this will be a class of great heroes. Even Bakugou, Todoroki, Kouda... Those who do not seem like the ideal heroes in attitude and mannerisms - too violent, too cold, too quiet - have a ridiculous amount of potential to be powerful heroes, both in raw strength and the ability to inspire new generations. This class may be a hell class already, but by Kami are they going to make good heroes.

Abruptly, the classroom door slides open, the sound quiet but practically a gunshot in the silence. Every head whips to face Izuku who freezes at the attention.

"Midoriya, did you really see Recovery Girl? It's only been five minutes."

"Uhm, Era- Aizawa-sensei, it's been over ten. It only took her a few minutes to re-do two stitches and kickstart my healing a bit."

"Hmph. Return to your seat, we'll be going over some feedback forms for your internships. It's to document what you think you've improved and learnt, which will then be compared to what your mentors report. We've got first period to spend on this as well. Hand the sheets back," he instructs, dumping sheaves of paper on each of the front desks.

"Iida, I've got a tablet here for you to use. Password's nohackingthisizuku, no spaces or capitals. The PDF is saved in the main document section," he goes on, ignoring the chattering at the password. It’s not his fault that Nedzu always set community passwords that fuck with at least one teacher. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was something about that Hatsume girl next week.

Regardless, he's attempted to teach his class an important lesson today.
He can only hope they've listened to it.

So, the following scene is an alternative scene to the actual adoption reveal coming up in the next five or so chapters, kay?

This is NOT canon to Kidilante, but it's such a brilliant idea (thanks Rainbow and Whale, you two are genius!) that I HAD to write it up anyway, so I present to you a brief scene of "how the class COULD have very easily found out about the Dadzawa/Kidzu adoption"!!!  On with the amazing idea:

It's only the second day back at school, and Izuku is muttering half-sarcastically about how his Dad had been an idiot the night before and left their clothes in the washer. Iida is looking more and more scandalised with every word, and finally begins to scold him,

"Izuku-kun, whilst I can understand your frustrations, as he is both your teacher and your father, you should show Aizawaaaaiiit- Uhm- Ah- I meant-!"

But it does no good. Iida's words, loud and carrying as usual, have rung throughout the entire classroom and sixteen heads have jerked towards their little corner. Not a word is spoken, for all that several mouths hang wide open, and they all sit in stunned silence. Until the classroom door slides open, and everyone instead turns to look at the interloper.

Aizawa, tired as usual, blinks back at them all.

"WHAT???!!!!" Several of the class suddenly burst out with similar exclamations, all at the same time, and then it's a free for-all.

"Sensei, you adopted-?"

"Midoriya is an Aizawa?"

"He's your son-?!"

"Why didn't we figure-?" The cacophony of teenage demands is apparently too much this early in the morning as Aizawa doesn't even glare at them all as he turns on his heel and leaves, door clattering shut behind him. Silence yet again falls. Until a quiet, rhythmic thudding makes itself known.

"Izu, you're going to hurt yourself," Shouto chides, frowning minutely in concern.

"He was already stabbed Peppermint, he'll survive this."

"But what if he gets a bruise? Or a concussion?"

"Fair point. Oi, green bean, quit-" But before the two can finish scolding their best friend, or one of them can slide a hand in between Izuku's head and desk, the class yet again bursts into noise. The questions, a combination of confused, gleeful and horrified, easily overrun their gentle scoldings and Iida's flustered apologies.

Because how is their teacher Midoriya's Dad, adopted or not? Surely they should have noticed before now...

Izuku flinches at the return of the clamouring and stumbles to his feet. And, before any of the class quite realise what he's doing, the window is already open and he's half-out, expression utterly blank. Hitoshi and Shouto have both lurched to their feet, reaching out, but they're easily beaten by several strips of off-white cloth that curl themselves very carefully and precisely around Izuku and proceed to pull him up and across the classroom, skimming just high enough to barely avoid Shouji's tenctacles and Yaorozoru's ponytail as he gets unceremoniously reeled in to his Dad's arms.

"Dad senses," Aizawa deadpans, cradling Izuku, and then the two are gone. Nineteen students are left behind, utterly flabbergasted, none entirely sure what the crack-hallucination of the last ten minutes was. But there's one thing they can all agree on.

"What the fuck just happened?"

Chapter Text

The second day back sees both Aizawas in school at the ungodly hour of seven forty, Izuku signing with Present Mic about... sound equipment, apparently, whilst his Dad is catching up on some paperwork from the week previous. Or rather, suffering through the disgraceful state of 2-B's Laws & Ethics essays regarding rescue differentiation. If there are two people about to die, you cannot simply 'save both' every time. Now don't get the man wrong, if the students could have come up with a viable plan where 'saving both' was at least somewhat feasible, he would allow them that and mark them accordingly. But bull-headed overconfidence was only going to get them a failing mark. Idiots. His class could do better than this, honestly...

The underground hero's less than kind thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of Nedzu in the faculty office, the creature dropping out of the vents straight onto Ishiyama's desk. Nobody flinches.

"Ah yes, Shouta-kun, I had something to discuss with you, before things got rather... derailed last week, would you mind popping over to my office with me?"  The pro hero in question simply grunts in acknowledgement, half his attention still on the paperwork strewn across his desk, but he stands up all the same, scooping his employer up casually and offering Izuku a hair ruffle on the way past.

Once they're both settled in Nedzu's office, the creature nursing a steaming mug of tea, the principal jumps right in,

"Bakugou Mistuki asked me if I would let yourself and Izuku-kun know that she still has a number of mementos belonging to Midoriya Inko which ended up with her rather than Izuku-kun, along with an invitation for the pair of you to come over for dinner at some point in the hopefully near future. She appeared rather sincere."  For a long second, Aizawa only blinks, taking that in,

"Wait, what?"

"Bakugou-san and Izuku's mother were 'best fucking friends' as the good woman phrased it. And I don't believe Izuku-kun has many things remaining from his childhood?"

"No, he doesn't," Aizawa mutters, glowering into the middle distance.

"...Did she mention anything to do with Bakugou - Katsuki, that is?" He asks, unsure where to go with this conversation.

"Not in so many words. A brief comment about her son 'being a right little shit' and her being glad that we managed to force him into the anger management classes that her husband and she could never convince him to attend."

"Right. Okay. I assume I can use the mobile number on file to contact her?"

"Certainly Shouta-kun!"

"Guess I'll do that then," Aizawa mutters, scratching at his cheek as he stands to leave Nedzu's office. He'd better talk to Izuku tonight. But he does have a patrol, so maybe during dinner...?

"Oh, and Shouta-kun!" the creature calls out, prompting the man to stop and turn back with a raised eyebrow.
"Please ask Izuku to come and see me once he's seen Recovery Girl this morning - I presume you can cover anything necessary from homeroom with him in your own time?"

"Sure. Do I want to know why?" the man dares to ask, almost dreading whatever answer he might be given.

"Oh, it's nothing much. Just wrapping up some of the preparations for this Saturday. Things are going quite marvellously."

"Right. Good to hear."  And he's not lying, that is good to hear. But sue him if he, rather sensibly in his own opinion, is a bit wary of the whole 'challenging the entire hero industry' thing that his son and employer are working towards. It's a good thing - fucking brilliant actually - 

"And I believe today has one of your physical education slots? Expect him to be with me for then as well."

"Hm," Aizawa hums, trying not to be too dismissive. After all, he'd already assumed that Izuku would end up off somewhere else during PE today, what with the stab wound and everything.

Although, should his healing sessions with Chiyo go as planned, it would be dealt with by Thursday. Hopefully. His brat was already getting antsy and that made his insomnia play up, which meant that he didn't have always have enough stamina for Recovery Girl to heal him, which only prolonged the inactivity and, all in all, created a very vicious cycle that was no fun for either of them.

(Aizawa wouldn't admit it to anyone, but his patrols are a little bit lonely without a silver-flashing shadow by his side, flinging out sarcastic one-liners and kicks interchangeably, never still, rarely silent... Never away from his side anymore, until now. The thought twists uncomfortably in his guts, not releasing its tension until he gets home to find Izuku half-asleep with the cats, notebooks and pens scattered around, re-runs of the news lighting up the room. The kid's not aware enough to truly register it when Aizawa presses a brief kiss to his curls, and the man wouldn't have it any other way.)

"Hey kiddo, you know how your mother and Bakugou Mitsuki were friends?" Izuku startles at his Dad's words, nearly choking on his mouthful of tonkatsu which - whoops - he probably should have timed that better.

"Yeh, 's the only reason I was ever friends with Ka- with Bakugou... Why?" And there's something in the kid's tone, wary and kind of hurt. Conflicted, like he's had an awful thought and is trying to convince himself it's wrong... What could- Oh. Oh shit, if he really thinks...

"Kid. This has nothing to do with me being your Dad, because that will never change, but Bakug- ugh, stupid family names - Mistuki, her, the woman - asked Nedzu if we'd like to go around for dinner and probably bring back some of your mother's things that she has. Wait," he warns, before his son can go spiralling, his eyes no doubt soft even with the gruff tone,

"Let me finish first kiddo. Because, as far as I'm concerned, this is completely your choice, and it is a choice. You matter to me, not another family's feelings. If you're happy to go have dinner with them and grab some of your mother's things, that's fine with me and I will be there beside you as much as you want me. I won't be offended that you want more things from your mother, okay? I reckon, if you wanted extra support, we could ask Tsukauchi or Hizashi or Nemuri along too. If you're not comfortable with dinner, then either I or both of us can go and just pick up some of her things. Or, if you don't want either, then I can message the woman to decline her offer but ask her to keep any of your mother's things in case you want them when you're older because, in my opinion, if she's kept them this long she could keep them for another five or ten years. Alright kid? So take your time, think it through. I'll be better off messaging her in the morning anyway, so don't rush yourself. Understood?"

Aizawa had been expecting a nod, or a shrug, or maybe even some defensive snark, not for his son to stumble to his feet and crash into his Dad, silent tears dripping down the freckled face, hands trembling where they grip the back of his shirt.

"Hush kiddo, hush. It's all fine, it's all alright. You're okay, I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere, hush now, it's all your choice here, you're safe..." He accompanies his quiet words with a strong arm holding Izuku close, and a gentle hand carding through green curls, encouraging Izuku to keep his head tucked in the crook of his Dad's neck, where it's warm and dark and safe.

By the time Izuku slowly pulls away, their meal has gone cold, but they both finish it up anyway.

"I think I'd be alright with dinner? I- I'd like to at least look through some of my Mum's things, particularly any photos, and, as long as you're there, I'd p-probably be okay with the B-Bakugous. Mitsuki and Masaru were always r-really nice at l-least."

"Hm. Alright. I'm still messaging her in the morning though. Decorum and all that shit," Aizawa replies, nonchalant. Neither of them miss how he gave Izuku the time to change his mind if need be, but without discounting his current decision. Hence Izuku grabbing up their dirty crockery before the man could even stand, and nudging him with an elbow,

"It's probably your turn to choose the evening telly."

And if Aizawa happens to pick a re-run of a film that they both like, then who's to complain?

On the way back from school on Wednesday, the two Aizawas pick up their post as usual, only to find one letter addressed to 'Izuku' - no Midoriya or Aizawa, just 'Izuku'. And on one corner, a stamp with the symbol for Tartarus prison.

"Nope. Nope, nope, fucking nope,"  Izuku mutters, shoving it at his Dad. Aizawa takes it without hesitation, irrationally feeling like having his kid even touch something like that is a bad idea, and even whilst his heart is hammering because why is Tartarus sending a letter to his kid, something in the back of Aizawa's head is crowing in joy because Izuku, when faced with something unpleasant, something threatening, immediately looked to him to solve the problem.

He trusted Aizawa. Unthinkingly, he relied on him. And that means a hell of a lot, particularly when coming with someone with as high walls as Izuku has.

Regardless, Aizawa is quick to shove that bit of childish glee away in lieu of focusing on some bloody letter from the highest-security prison in Japan. The one addressed to his kid of all people.

"I don't trust it," he states, peering at the innocuous envelope in his hand.

"Me neither." They both pause, staring at it, then look up to meet each other's eyes, speaking in tandem,

"Nedzu."

Ringing the creature up reveals that inmates whose Quirks cannot affect objects, or be directed through objects, are allowed to write monitored letters to the outside world. Well, have them be typed up by a guard apparently. And, judging by the timing, this would be a letter from Stain which is... interesting, arguably; the whole thing definitely has Aizawa more than a little discomfited, but he is curious. Izuku is even more so.

"We might as well open up the murder letter if Nedzu says it'll be safe."

"Kid, you calling it that does not help."

But Izuku only shrugs with an impish grin spreading over his face, and he heads into their home first leaving the door open for his Dad who, after the necessary sigh and headshake, follows the brat in, shutting the apartment door with his foot before any of the cats lose enough interest in Izuku to randomly make a run for it. Just because they don't usually bother doesn't mean they never will. Or maybe he's just paranoid. And Izuku's,

"So, murder letter?" really does not make the whole thing any easier to compute.

"I'm getting there kiddo, at least let me get in the do-"

"You're already through the door Dadzawa. Look, it's closed and everything!"

"Kid, no. Just no."  And he promptly has to ignore the obviously not adorable pouting of his son as he heads into the kitchen. If he's going to be dealing with fucking murder letters, then he at least deserves some coffee to get him through it.

All the same, it only takes them ten minutes to be changed into lounge clothes, coffees in hand, cats around them, and the bloody - not literally, thank Kami - murder letter on the coffee table in front of them.

"Might as well get it over with-"

"Kid. You can say no, because it is your letter, but would you mind if I read it first?"

And for all that Izuku hesitates, it's clearly out of confusion, not doubt, but he looks at his Dad, takes in his neutral expression and the fire of protectiveness in his eyes, then seems to realise something and nods, gesturing for the man to go ahead. So Aizawa puts down his coffee and takes up the envelope instead. Kami, he is not looking forwards to this.

To Izuku - or Hemlock, rather,

You are a true hero. I verbally acknowledged this during out fight, but I wish to reiterate the statement now. You, like All Might, are a rare credit to the hero industry.

Being in Tartarus for even just a week has allowed me to ponder some of your words. Well, those that weren't rather pointed insults. (You should know, I do NOT have a blood kink.)

It was Eraserhead that you were mentoring under, correct? Who quite literally trampled over me to get to you, his students? I find that, perhaps, he is not a fake hero. And with that line of thinking comes that of other heroes, particularly those underground, at least having an element of true altruism and dedication to them.

I don't regret my actions, as either Stain or Stendhal. But I can regret having to fight you, for all that it has made me realise some of these things.

You, Izuku, Hemlock, are a hero worth following.

As such, I hope you don't mind that I spread word of your true heroism as best I can. Well, you have little choice. Even in a heavy-duty prison such as this, word spreads quickly and words such as mine quickest of all. The name Hemlock will be feared and revered amongst villains and with this reputation, I expect you to do truly good things - I expect you to help reform this disgusting society we languish in, to reform the crippling hero industry into something worthy of yourself and others like you.

I think I will end this letter here, with an assurance that I am only spreading your hero name, not 'Izuku' - it was easy enough to put together from the guards' stories and the little media we're allowed access to that you're Hemlock. Rest assured, I will keep your given name a secret only for myself.

Your admirer,

Stain,

Akaguro Chizome.

"Well, that isn't creepy at all,"  is Izuku's first comment upon being handed the single typed sheet of paper. Aizawa, for his part, is still staring into the depths of his now-empty mug, half-wishing it had been alcohol instead.

"I don't like it."

"I mean, neither really, but at least it's not a death threat? Although the whole 'I expect' and the fucking 'your admirer' are a bit ominous. Do you think he's aware of Valentine's day, because, really, if he's going to do a letter like this, he could have at least kept the whole thing thematic."

"Izuku, kiddo, brat: that is not the point."

"But it is a point!"

And that breaks the stiff, sullen tension that had descended on the room. Because okay, the letter was creepy, but it wasn't inherently bad. Well, not entirely at least... Kami, the whole thing is messed up, but Aizawa is honestly just grateful that his son is still here to be getting some fucking murder letter.

And with that thought, Aizawa nudges Izuku to abandon said letter on the coffee table for now, even as he himself picks up the TV remote and settles back on the sofa, curling a comfortable arm around his Problem Child's shoulders to tuck him into his side. Izuku is fine, is right here, right now, safe beside him, and in quiet celebration of that exact fact, the man reckons they can switch off for a few hours in front of the television together.

And so they do.

Chapter Text

It's just after lunch that Saturday, and Izuku is laying on the floor by the sofa, phone in hand and Cadaver and Kimchi sprawled across his chest. Caitlin is nestled against his neck, her whiskers tickling his jaw.

Sinnamon-roll: [Shou, you're definitely alright for everything to go ahead today, right? There's still enough time to prolong things if you want.]

Shouto : [Wouldn't that mess up your plan though Izu? You've already sent in all that analyses and blackmailed people and everything.]

Sinnamon-roll:  [And you think that's more important than you?]

Insomn-i-am:  [Green bean's right Peppermint]

There's a long pause then, three little dots letting them know that Shouto's typing. They give him the time.

Shouto : [I've got you two either way, haven't I?]

Sinnamon-roll:  [Never doubt it.]

Insomn-i-am: [always Peppermint]

Shouto :  [Then I'll definitely be fine. Me and Fuyumi'll be watching Izu, promise]

Sinnamon-roll:  [Please do!]

                       :[But also, if it ends up triggering or if things get really nasty, turn it off. Don't force yourself]

Insomn-i-am: [do you and your sister want to come to mine for the night? my Mums won't mind]

Sinnamon-roll:  [Or even at UA? I know there's a few rooms near the infirmary?]

Shouto : [We'll be alright, thank you. We're staying at Natsuo's this weekend anyway, his roommate's away.]

Sinnamon-roll:  [Alright.]

Insomn-i-am:   [message us if you need to talk though, yeh Shouto?]

Sinnamon-roll:  [What Toshi said. Even if it's about random stuff.]

                      : [Or ring.]

Insomn-i-am:   [just talk to us if you need]

Shouto : [I will. Thank you both.]

Izuku and Hitoshi spend the next five minutes explaining how Shouto absolutely doesn't need to thank them but that he's welcome all the same, then they very deliberately shift conversation to lighter topics. Cats, for example. But then Izuku starts cackling, although at this point Aizawa doesn't even bother looking up from his paperwork. He needs to catch up before the mess tonight is going to be.

Sinnamon-roll changed Shouto's name to PrettyThermostat

PrettyThermostat: [I... What?]

Sinnamon-roll: [Well Toshi and I have been trying to give you a suitably appropriate chat name.]

                       : [And you're literally a thermostat with a pretty face.]

                       : [So I'm christening you PrettyThermostat. Rise from your husk and be even more amazing.]

insomn-i-am: [what green bean said, but more deadpan and less sparkly]

Sinnamon-roll:  [Shut.]

insomn-i-am:  [make me bitch]

Sinnamon-roll: [Fine. Monday. Just let me talk to Sero first.]

insomn-i-am:  [shit shit shit peppermint help me i'm gonna die]

PrettyThermostat:  [Izu. Be nice.]

Sinnamon-roll: [Fiiiiiiiine. So mean.]

Six hours later, Izuku is half-way through intervening in a very public villain attack on a highstreet. It's a good few hours before his typical patrols, but Izuku wanted this to have the full impact possible. As much publicity too.

And so, quite simply, he has let himself be caught.

He has already faked being knocked out by one of the villains as the police were arriving and ushering civilians away. And of course, they were obligated to take in the vigilante. Following standard procedure, one of the officers clasped his wrists together in front of him in Quirk-suppressant cuffs. Not a problem there - just what Izuku had been planning on in fact! And then Endeavour arrived on the scene to finish apprehending the last of the villains, alongside the more minor hero who had already been doing so.

Using Endeavour's boisterous arrival as a distraction, Izuku is quick to shear the handcuff's chain down on a sharp bit of rebar near him, and then scarper into the shadows at the edge of the fight. After a few seconds hesitation, he pings his planned alert to his Dad; this is probably about the point where he'll need him soon.

Just as Izuku is slipping his phone away, two of the knocked out villains begin to rouse, both well behind Endeawhore and therefore well into his blind-spot. The other hero is gawping at the flame hero - useless, in other words. Sighing, Izuku darts forwards, out of the shadows, trying to analyse the two before he starts actually fighting them. The woman's legs look like they belong on a goat or a sheep or something, plus she's got curly horns - wicked sharp - and horizontal pupils. So, definitely a sheep/goat mutation Quirk then. And the man beside her... He's trickier. He's wearing a band tee, and his ears look slightly grey-toned, so perhaps some kind of sound or music-based emitter-?

Oh shit. Ow, okay. The man definitely has a sound-based emitter, judging by how loud everything just got.

Izuku flinches for a split-second, then keeps on moving, already bringing his bo staff around, aiming at the goat girl's throat, trying to focus through the deafening cacophony of screams and heartbeats and flames and shouting. Fortunately, it only takes a couple of rib batterings and a solid strike to the temple for goat girl to go down, then Izuku turns most of his attention to emitter guy. Excluding a nasty cut down the outside of his wrist, he's fairly uninjured, not including the half-migraine from the auditory overload, so he's not too worried.

Until there's the incoming sound of rushing flame and he's too slow to fully avoid it, even as he jumps to the side. Fucking Endeawhore! The worst part is, emitter guy took a fair bit of damage, judging by the choked screaming and the flaming clothes. And dammit, Izuku wants to help, even if the man is a villain, nobody deserves to burn at Endeavour's brutal hand, but he has no choice but to spin and face the number two hero instead. He'd be no use to anyone if he let Endeawhore kill him today. And hopefully Dad would be here soo-

Then Izuku is jumping and dodging and ducking, trying to avoid the worst of the fireballs and flaming fists. Can't do much about the insults though, and it's all he can do to snark back as the lump has a go at him:

"Useless vigilante. No better than a villain!"   Oh yeh, 'cause Izuku's never heard that before,

"At least I'm not abusive scum! Hey, that's a point: Mr. Endeawhore, what do you know about Section 2, Article 15 of Subsection 47?"

"WHAT?! " Welp, now he's even angrier. Good going Izuku.

"How is your wife? Still in that mental hospital you shoved her in? On that note, what about the entirety of Marital Law? And, for that matter, other types of domestic abuse? Or, back on the vigilante route, Articles 17 and 21 of Subsection 44?" And he's talking quietly enough that only Endeavor can hear, what with the roar of blasting flames all around them, but it still enrages the man further.

"YOU INSOLENT BRAT; HOW DARE YOU? I'LL KILL YOU, YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING LAW-BREAKER! I'VE BEEN ITCHING TO FOR YEARS NOW!" Damn, Endeawhore's really going off on one here, Izuku thinks, his internal tone mild even as he outwardly spills acid back at the man, full volume,

"Ah, but you see, Mr. Endeawhore, what if these vigilante laws only apply to Quirked people?" And Izuku is smiling now, the grin vicious and victorious all in one, a wolf with its prey inches from its jaw.

"What-" But a shout from amongst the police cordon cuts him off,

"He's still fighting with Quirk suppressant cuffs! He must be Quirkless!" And now the entire crowd is roaring, there's a news helicopter above them all, plus various phones are lifted high in the air to capture it all as Endeavor tries to kill this Quirkless vigilante kid. Then, Izuku trips. And oh shit, that flame is incredibly close, fuck-

"Kidilante!"

Thank fuck, the flame is suddenly gone, blasting uselessly against a sheet - no, strips and strips - of capture weapon. Behind it, bodily protecting Izuku's prone form, is his Dad. Eraserhead, in all his Underground hero glory, is stood there, protecting him. Thank Kami.

"Endeavour! Cease and desist immediately!" A different voice rings out - Tsuka, from the sounds of it. Ah, Izuku's favourite detective. Although he can't really be pleased about it when Endeavour is still charging at him and his Dad, flames sputtering out for a few seconds, then coming back in, and now he's looming at them from only a metre away, but a blast of noise ("YYYEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!") sends him back a few paces. Then he's coming back again, Quirk still fluctuating with Dad blinking every few seconds, the brightness of his flames no doubt making it worse, and Mic shouts again, then somebody else - Edgeshot, maybe? holy shit - comes barrelling in and lands a few good hits on Endeavour that get him to his knees.

Izuku's Dad is quick to send his capture scarf forward, even as Endeawhore's trying to stand, and manages to restrain him long enough with the fire-proof alloy for Edgeshot to get a pair of ironically familiar suppressant cuffs on him. The man is still roaring and raging, but hey, he can't do much now. And then Midnight vaults over the police cordon and is waving her hand near his face, emitting pink gas, and then the behemoth is knocked right out and Izuku can finally breathe.

"Kid, you're okay right? Kami, you look awful, don't-" 

"Wow, thanks Eraserhead. Not as though you permanently look like a hobo caterpillar or anything. I've seen your cat pyjamas!" Izuku teases, trying to lighten the situation. And yeh, Dad snorts once, but then he's straight back to fussing over him.

"How bad are your injuries? Want me to ring Recovery Girl? We can-" And wow, now that his Dadzawa's mentioned it, his everything hurts. His hearing is... kind of wobbly? It keeps on fading in and out and his ears hurt and his back and shoulder and leg and- well, lots of places, really, feel pretty badly burnt. Maybe he'll need to stay in the infirmary this time...

"Oi, kid, stay awake!" But he's already slipping into darkness.

Izuku wakes back up again to a comforting hand carding through his hair, a warm body sat on the edge of his bed, and the chattering of a news channel on in the background, just loud enough to take the edge off of the aggravating heart monitor beeping. Ah, wonderful, the UA infirmary as predicted. Recovery Girl is probably very unimpressed with him right now.

"Hey kiddo."

"Hey Dad," he rasps in return, finally opening his eyes and yep, no surprises here. Him, in a bed, plus his Dad, now standing to fetch the glass of water from a pitcher on Recovery Girl's desk across the room. And Dadzawa's laptop is on his rolling bed-tray-thing, playing a news channel which is rolling footage of a certain fire hero shouting about killing a certain now-revealed-Quirkless vigilante. Who also happened to be a teenager, judging by size, voice and name. Nobody on the program's panel was saying anything in Endeawhore's defence. Good, in Izuku's obvious opinion. And, judging by the smug edge to his Dad's slightly worried frown, he agreed.

"Todoroki and Shinsou have been messaging you. Incessantly. I texted them back to let them know you're more or less alright, but that's it."

"Wha- Oh shit, yeh, they were probably watching. Thanks Dad," Izuku rushes out, grabbing at his phone from where it's sat, screen down, beside his Dad's laptop. Then he winces, because that is a lot of notifications.

Sinnamon-roll:  [Guess who's alive, bitches?]

Sinnamon-roll:  [But, no, seriously, I'm fine you two. You don't need to worry.]

insomn-i-am: [green bean!]

PrettyThermostat: [Of course we did, Izu. That was... terrifying to watch.]

Sinnamon-roll: [I'm sorry Shouto, I told you to turn it off if it was too much!]

PrettyThermostat: [You think I could stop watching when it was you getting hurt?]

insomn-i-am: [peppermint's right Izuku]

                     : [it was scary. like watching a car crash or something]

                    : [can't look away but you can't bear to watch it either]

Sinnamon-roll:  [I'm sorry you two, really, I didn't realise it would look so bad]

                       : [But if it's any consolation, I really enjoyed the fast half!]

                      :  [And then Dadzawa arrived, so I was fine]

PrettyThermostat: [Izu, you only just woke up, right? You were not fine.]

Sinnamon-roll:  [Ah but, Shou, consider this:   ]

                       : [I was]

insomn-i-am: [green bean, now is not the time to memeing at us. we were worried]

Izuku pauses then, gaze drifting over to his Dad, who has draped himself over the bottom of his bed, Izuku's shins included, email app open on his phone. He must have worried them all again, mustn't he? He should probably try not doing that.

Sinnamon-roll:  [Sorry you two, really. But I promise, I'm mostly alright. One or two sessions with Recovery Girl and I'll be as good as new.]

                      :  [And now my plan's fully in motion]

                      :  [I got confirmation from the HC that my blackmail was successful]

                     :  [Endeawhore's going down, bitches!]

There's a solid minute of Shouto's icon showing those three little dots, and Hitoshi and Izuku easily wait for him, but what comes is a simple statement.

PrettyThermostat: [Thank you Izuku. For everything.]

Sinnamon-roll:  [It was my pleasure Shou. Now, I'mma nap again.]

And, before anything else can be said, Izuku switches his phone off, then wriggles his legs around until Aizawa looks up at him, only mildly concerned. The teen's grabby hands are a pretty obvious question. 

Accordingly, with a huff more fond than anything else, Aizawa gets up then slides back on to the bed, sat against the headboard, and waits for Izuku to curl up with his head in the man's lap, arms wrapped around his Dad's knees. Then, he carefully threads a hand through his kid's hair, a heavy, familiar weight, and sets to scrolling through cat memes. The rest of his work emails can wait.

Izuku can't help the malicious grin spreading across his face. Everything was coming together beautifully. Between his blackmail-stroke-help of the Hero Commission, the public statements he'd enlisted Nedzu to prompt from certain heroes, along with the new preachings of Stain spreading through the underground, he was currently turning elements of the hero industry completely on its head. This had been literally months of work, and something he had abstractly considered for at least two years now, so seeing it come to fruition was... satisfying to say the least.

And it all started with the downfall of Endeavor.

The Hero Commission, having been sent all of his relevant analysis files through a heavily encrypted temporary email server he himself set up - don't even ask, Nedzu and therefore UA's resources had been a massive help with that one - had little choice but to try and keep up with the tsunami Izuku was cultivating. By sending in-depth reports on the brutality of Endeavor - his high villain-death rate, the untold levels of property damage, and (to those higher up in the HC) documented counts of domestic violence, child abuse and bribery of government workers - he had forced their hand into bringing Endeavor to account. Or, in his own words, he 'would do it for them, and not in such a pretty light as they might choose to pain it'. Was it blackmail? Hell yes. Did Izuku care? Not in the slightest. It got Shouto and his siblings safe. His choice of blackmail ensured that the Commission would find a way for Fuyumi to gain custody of Shouto and for none of the family to go unsupported. Endeavor had a lot of money after all.

And, beyond his personal reasons for taking down Endeavor, there was the added major benefit of his disgrace being a symbol. Not a symbol of peace but of justice. Truth. Izuku was forcing the Hero Commission to reform their worst heroes - to put those with overtly villainous tendencies onto probation with a good chance of losing their licenses if they didn't undergo and pass several corrective and reformative training courses. 

Now, Izuku knows that some of this will backfire in some way. Undoubtedly, a few of the heroes who get called out will go rogue. But, the Commission will know exactly who to watch, which will help negate any actual harm. And there will be civil unrest for sure. But, for the most part, people will get behind this. After all, they got behind Stain's ideals of true heroism. So, by taking some of Stain's baser ideals and twisting them into something legal and supposedly voluntary, the Commission gets to look good, and Izuku gets the changes he wants made.

Technically, it's a win-win. Although Izuku knows himself to be the truest victor.

(At that thought, Izuku starts cackling, rocking back and forth, and doesn't shut up until his Dad comes into his room, Quirk blazing, and throws not one but two cats at him, with the simple comment,

"It's three in the morning kiddo, shut the fuck up."  Izuku does so, but only because Cadaver and Caitlin won't stay if he doesn't.)

Transcript from 'Public Denouncement Of Anti-Heroic Heroes', a public statement given by a Hero Commission Representative, Tanaka Ryusoke (29/05/XX).

[As part of our societal reforms, in light of recent events and previous failures of the system, we are 'purging' the hero system. To begin with, we are exposing the hero Endeavor for, primarily, consistent use of excessive force and damaging of property both public and private. As of this week, he has been stripped of his hero license and will be facing court trials for his wrong-doings.

The Hero Commission has seen the outcry resulting from the actions of the villain Stain, who killed thirty seven heroes and maimed eight more. We have been making changes in the background for many years to ensure the continued true altruism of our heroes, who dedicate their lives to protecting our citizens. However, in light of recent events, we have concluded that we need to take more major action to prove to you all that our top priority is the safety of the people. And to maintain that, we have initiated an internal scheme to take down these 'fake' heroes who have gone to great lengths to exploit our dedicated system. 

We are recognising the intentions of Stain and both factions of his fanatics; the words of several vigilantes and both aboveground and underground heroes; the statement of our number one hero, the Symbol of Peace All Might. We see that there are a small number of these 'fake' heroes to be found within our ranks, and we are exposing them. Through legal, morally-right procedures, we are bringing several heroes to justice. 

The Hero Commission asks that you, the public, respect that while this does take time, we are expediting the process as much as possible whilst retaining its integrity, and know that once decisions have been made on each case, as much detail will be shared publicly as possible and safe.

Good day from the Hero Commission: we are always here.]

Chapter Text

Aizawa stomps into the faculty office with steps that are somehow still quieter than the average person's, scowling fiercely,

“Has anyone seen my sleeping bag? I could have fucking sworn that I left it in class but apparently not and if those hellspawn have taken it again-"

“Might want to tone it down,” Ishiyama warns, a smile on his face. And now Aizawa is suspicious.

“What’s that supposed to m- ah shit.” Because a yellow teenager-shaped lump on one of the sofas has caught his eye. He doesn’t even need to see the green curls tufting out of the face-hole to be able to tell exactly what has happened. 

Sighing heavily, and studiously ignoring the snickers of his co-workers, Aizawa ambles over to his kid. Unsurprisingly, once he gets within a metre or two, Izuku startles, abruptly half awake and he shifts just enough to be able to squint out at the room. Coming to crouch beside him, Aizawa cards a hand through his kid’s hair, glad to see him relax straight away.

“Reckon there’s room for one more?”

“Mmmaybe.”

“It’s my bag you brat, so there’d better be.” And then with slow, smooth movements, Aizawa unzips the bag and slides in behind Izuku. Once he’s made sure all of their limbs are tucked in, he promptly zips the bag back up before rolling them over so that Izuku is half on his chest, half laying beside him, tucked against the back of the sofa where it’s safest.

“Go back to sleep kiddo. They’ll wake us up in time to eat.” And with that, the Aizawas easily fall asleep. They're going to need the rest if they want to be coherent for dinner with the Bakugous tonight.

Standing on the pavement, only a few metres from the Bakugou's front door, the underground hero looks down at his kid's curls beside him and can't help but ruffle them,

"Want me to knock kiddo?" Izuku, mutely, just nods, hands fidgeting. Aizawa resists the urge to give him a knife. Kami, that really should not be a habit he's gotten into, but it's too late to worry about it right now.

"If you need to Izuku, we can walk away, no questions. I'll just text her that we got caught up in something."

And the man means every word. If his kid isn't ready for this, there's no way that Aizawa cares enough about societal expectations or other peoples' opinions to sacrifice his kid's wellbeing.

But when Izuku squares his shoulders, takes a deep breath, and offers him a wobbly smile in answer, all Aizawa can do is ruffle his hair yet again and knock on the door.

"Katsuki! Get the fucking door!" echoes from inside, immediately countered with an equally loud,

"Shut the fuck up hag, I know already!"  The two Aizawas exchanged glances, equally deadpan, but the hero doesn't miss the flicker of shadows in Izuku's eyes. Before he can act on it though, the door is being wrenched open, revealing Bakugou - Katsuki, that is - wearing a button up shirt with a pair of jeans. His socks are pink.

The blond freezes.

"...Hag?" The teen calls, eyes uncharacteristically wide and caught on Aizawa.

"What, shitty brat? Why aren't you letting our guests in?"  But Katsuki doesn't reply, still just staring at his teacher, apparently not even having registered Izuku.

Then, from down the hallway that can be seen past the blond, a woman comes into view.

"Katsuki, don't be fucking rude! Hello Aizawa-san and- oh Izuku-kun, you little shit, let me look at you properly!" And Mitsuki is bustling past Katsuki, reaching for the greenette, who automatically ducks behind his Dad, peering around him like a little kid.

"H-hi Bakugou-san," he gets out, and Aizawa blindly reaches behind him to catch ahold of one of Izuku's trembling hands with his own, squeezing lightly. Mitsuki examines them both for a moment, then lets her arms drop fully back to her sides, smile softening a little.

"Bakugou-san-"

"Both of you stop that formality shit! Call me Mistuki, or Auntie Mitsuki if you want Izuku-kun. It's-" she pauses for a moment, takes in the blank expression and nervous eyes, the eyebags and scars,
"-it's really fucking good to see you kid. Why don't you both come in? Oi, Katsuki, stop standing there like a fucking idiot! Go lay the table or check on the food or some shit if you're just gonna stare!"

Seemingly on autopilot, the blond boy walks away to do exactly that, and Mitsuki steps back to let the two Aizawas in properly. Izuku doesn't let go of his Dad's hand, even when taking their shoes off. The hero finds that he doesn't really mind.

"Thank you for coming Aizawa-san, Izuku-kun. I hope katsudon's still your favourite! I'll never match up to Inko's, but I do a pretty good fucking job of it all the same. Oh- MASA!" she yells at the stairs, and there's some clattering to be heard from above them as she shakes her head with a smile, all gleaming teeth. It's not cold or vicious though, just... a little aggressive.

Aizawa can see where Baku- Katsuki gets his... everything from.

"So Izuku-kun, I dragged Inko's things down from the attic and grabbed whatever shit was around the house. I'd like to keep some things, but if you want all of it then fucking go for it, alright? Although I thought we could leave that until after dinner. Kami knows Katsuki gets an even shittier temper if he's not on the right schedule." As she chatters, Aizawa takes in the home around them. It's nice. Middle-class, lived in but neat, with what Nemuri would probably call good taste. Although one wall does have a scorch mark. Not surprising, really.

"So you must be busy a lot, Aizawa-san?" Ah, small talk, wonderful.

"You can drop the honorific Ba- Mistuki-san. And yes, but Izuku was aware of that before I took him in, and we'd known each for a while anyway."  Sue him if he's a little defensive, he keeps his tone even and that's more than enough, in his own books. Whatever keeps Izuku calm.

"That's not too shitty then. Good. And- Oi, Masaru, Izuku-kun and his Dad are here!" Both Mistuki and her husband easily ignore how a series of explosions promptly ring out from the other room at that, but Aizawa's a bit preoccupied with drawing firm circles against the back of Izuku's hand with his thumb, having felt how his kid jumped and shuddered, trying to keep him grounded. Something in it must be working, because he feels Izuku take in a deep breath, then another, before the greenette steps properly out from behind him to smile shakily at the brunet who was just walked in.

"H-hey Masaru-san."

"Hello Izuku-kun." And Aizawa approves of the genuine, soft affection to be found in the man's tone.

"We caught a glimpse during the Sports Festival - congratulations on that by the way - but you really have been through the wars, haven't you?" There's no pity, only sympathy, and perhaps that's what lets Izuku smile a little, both of the Bakugous' eyes catching on how his handprint scar tugs and stretches with it. Izuku, as per usual, doesn't flinch or shy away from attention to any of his scars, but his hand flexes, just once, in his Dad's grip.

"I h-have. Given Dad a few h-heartattacks, to s-say the least."

"You really have kiddo." And the look Aizawa levels Izuku with screams 'I wouldn't have it any other way'; neither of them particularly care if the Bakugous pick up on it as well, not when Izuku can so easily smile at his Dad for the sentiment.

(Both Mistuki and Masaru do notice, actually, and they exchange relieved glances at the realisation. They knew Eraserhead was a good person and a good teacher, but they hadn't really been able to tell if he was a good father to the child they used to call their nephew. Seeing them interact like this was a welcome relief. They could visit Inko's grave without having to offer apologies this year, they could offer happy news instead. Izuku has someone to call 'Dad' with a smile, so even with scars and bags under his eyes, one side of his hair shaved fairly short still from the Sports Festival, from their own child's attack, they could smile at each other with lighter hearts.)

"So then! Let's head into the dining room, Katsuki should be about done by now, the brat. How do you find having him in your class Aizawa? He's a right little hooligan, isn't he...?" As Mitsuki talks to the pro hero, Izuku still dogging his Dad's steps, clutching at his larger hand, Masaru accompanies the greenette directly.

"When did you get adopted Izuku-kun? You and Aizawa are clearly very close; it's wonderful to see you with a good family. We still regret being unable to take you in ourselves."

"A-ah, Masaru-san, it's f-fine! I w-was never your resp-ponsibility a-a-anyway! And, it w-was after the USJ incident, a-although I knew Dad for a w-while before school."

"Oh? How did you meet?"  And that's such an innocuous question, genuinely well-intentioned, that Izuku feels a little bad for lying to the man when he says,

"The g-group home w-wasn't in the best a-area, and I w-would go w-w-wandering at night. Ended up g-getting saved from villains a-a few times."

"Izuku-kun..."   But the teen only flashes another brief smile at the man, taking a moment to lean towards his Dad's back, drinking in the familiar warmth. This whole thing is harder than he thought it would be, but it's still manageable. For now. Izuku can only hope it will stay that way - it would be pretty embarrassing to have a panic attack or something.

"Right, you two sit down with Masaru, the little shit and I will bring everything in."

"A-are you sure w-we can't-"

"Izuku-kun, honey, fuck off." And with that, Mitsuki swept away into the kitchen where, judging by the clattering of cutlery, Katsuku had retreated to avoid them.

Kami, this was going to be awkward, wasn't it?

"So Izuku-kun, how are you liking UA? It's been doing wonders for Katsuki."

"It's g-great! I've got my Dad, and T-toshi and Shou, p-plus a few other friends a-and th-the lessons are h-harder w-which is fun."

"You always were very bright. And how do you find teaching a class with all of those... strong personalities in them, Aizawa? Mitsuki and I have met a few of Katsuki's friends, and they're certainly characters."

"It's tiring. But they've all got potential, so it's worth it. My Quirk helps."

"So does your glare."

"Brat."

"Hobo cate-" Izuku cuts himself off, smirk evaporating, shifting in his seat so that he's pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with the pro hero, sending a sidelong glance at Masaru. But the man only smiles, eyes crinkling behind his glasses.

"You've changed Izuku-kun, but that's not a bad thing. I think Inko would be proud of you."

And oh. Izuku had never really dared to think about that before, or at least not in the last few years, too scared of what conclusions he might come to. But to hear that from someone who had known his Mum for so long, it was...

"Th-thanks. A-and for a-all of this," Izuku gets out, immeasurably glad when Aizawa shamelessly loops an arm around his shoulders and tugs him in close.

"You're welcome Izuku-kun. And if you ever want to pop round, even if it's only to talk about Inko, we'll always be happy to have you. I-" Masaru pauses, eyes up the doorway to the kitchen, but then he goes on,

"-I know Katsuki probably hasn't been the kindest to you over the years - both Mistuki and I are sorry for it, that we could never do more, because we've tried our best to get him in line, but nothing's particularly worked before now, with that principal of yours getting him into anger management. He's not calm, but he never will be I expect, it's not in his nature. Same as Mitsuki. All the same, he's improving and I hope he gets the chance to prove that to you, to both of you."

Aizawa resists the urge to snap at the man. Bakugou has said and done awful things to Izuku. Has scarred his son. But, the blond has been improving and that's already something that the pro has acknowledged. It doesn't mean that Bakugou and Izuku are going to be allowed to train directly against or with each other for a good while yet, but it does allow the explosive boy to keep his place in 1-A.

"For now, we're just keeping Ba- Katsuki separate from Izuku, to negate any temptation or opportunities for... bad habits to make themselves known." Masaru winces at that, but nods all the same, no hint of outrage to him. Good, in Aizawa's opinion. At least the man seems to understand that his son has been in the wrong, even if he seems unaware of even more details than Aizawa himself.

"Dinner's ready fuc- everyone!" Their conversation is cut off, perhaps for the better, by the re-emergence of Mituski, Katsuki trailing behind her with a firm scowl fixed in place. He doesn't look at Izuku or Aizawa. Bowls of katsudon are promptly distributed and Izuku easily takes the opportunity to avoid conversation by chewing slowly, gaze focused on his food. His Dad's arm might have retracted from around his son's shoulders when dinner arrived, but now the man taps against his leg, just once, in question. In return, Izuku knocks their knees together twice. Yes, he's alright for now, and willing to stay until after dinner. But it's the brief elbow nudge that says thank you.

After a few minutes though, conversation starts up again, Mitsuki asking about homework and course workloads, which Izuku succeeds in answering without too much of a stutter, mentioning how he helps with some police case work in preparation for becoming an underground hero. That prompts an inquiry into the differences between above- and underground heroics, which Aizawa easily takes over answering to give Izuku a bit of a break again, and the man is quite pleased with himself when, despite his own social failures, he manages to turn the conversation onto the Bakugous' jobs in the fashion industry, and then links it to hero costumes and support to keep it going. He hasn't missed how much more hesitant Izuku was to even speak with Katsuki in the room, and it rears an ugly creature of anger and resentment in his chest. But, he's developed patience for a reason, so he pushes it down and focuses on keeping as little attention on his son as possible. It works.

Or at least, it works until everyone has finished eating, and Mitsuki offers Izuku one of her softest smiles,

"I've got Inko's stuff in our spare room, if you'd like to look it over now. If you need a minute first, that's fucking fine too."

"I'm a-alright th-thank you," Izuku assured her,
"B-but please let m-me h-help with the plates."

"Izuku-kun, you're a fucking guest!"  But the greenette didn't even reply, only standing up and taking both his own bowl and his Dad's, then Masaru's from his left as well, dodging easily around one of Mitsuki's hands, not even looking at her to do so. For a long moment, the woman gapes at his back, Katsuki and her own crockery piled in her other hand, but then she barks out a laugh that inwardly startles both Aizawas, and follows the teen into the kitchen.

Aizawa, having watched the interaction with eagle eyes, relaxes a little, although he keeps an ear out, and now takes a moment to scrutinise his student.

Katsuki looks... restrained. As though he's containing himself from exploding the entire house into rubble and smoke. But now he glares over at across the table at Aizawa, folds his arms and, finally, speaks,

"So you're the shitty nerd's Dad now?"

"I am Izuku's father, yes."

"For how long?"

"Since the USJ. His group home was... lacklustre."

"What the fuck does lacklustre mean you shitty hobo?"

"Katsu-!"

"Frankly Baku- Katsuki, you're not one of my son's friends, nor someone with a legal need to know, so I won't tell you. And you will not hound my son over such matters, else I will push for you to be moved into either 1-B, or to the general education course if you break the terms of your probation. Understood?"

Aizawa doesn't like the way that Katsuki concedes but is still blatantly seething, clenched fists popping ominously. But then Masaru sends his son a look, and the blond boy huffs, offers his teacher an infinitesimal nod, then stomps away upstairs somewhere. At this point, the pro will take that much and be grateful for it.

"I apologise for him. He's a good kid and, in most areas, he's trying, but there's something about Izuku that has riled him up for years now and nothing we've done has successfully curbed that in him."  Aizawa scrutinises the man in front of him, decides that he truly is sincere, and waves away his apology,

"Baku- Katsuki isn't the first student I've had with a temper and he certainly won't be the last. It's simply more unpleasant to deal with when said temper is aimed at your own kid. And he's on his second chance already. So it'll be up to him whether or not he blows it." But before their conversation can go on, Mitsuki strides back in, Izuku following behind, green eyes immediately latching on to his Dad.

"Masaru, Aizawa, are you two joining us?"

"I'll wash up instead," the brunet replies, but the pro is busy exchanging a look with Izuku.

"Want me to come up too kid?"

Izuku, in silent answer, steps forward and tugs at the single loose end of his Dad's capture weapon, eyes shadowing over.

"You got it kiddo." Accordingly, Aizawa trails behind Izuku as Mitsuki leads them up the stairs and to the immediate room on their left.

The pile of stuff in the bed isn't tall. There's what seems to be a small collection of clothing, largely jumpers and something like skirts or dresses, judging by the fabrics, atop which two books - a photo album and a personal recipe book - are sat. Beside all that is a small chest, probably a jewellery box, its lacquered black surface decorated with leaves and purple sakura. It's not a lot, but still far better than the two photos and single bracelet that Izuku currently keeps squirrelled away in the back of his desk drawer.

"I'll leave you and your Dad to it, Izuku-kun. Don't fucking hesitate to get me, yeh?" But Izuku doesn't reply, frozen in place. When Mitsuki shuts the door behind her, he stumbles back, bumps into his Dad's chest, then whirls around and stands on tiptoes to bury his face against the capture weapon.

"C'mere kid," the pro mutters, just audible, and hikes Izuku up so that the teen is limpeted to his front, balanced partially on his hip so that he can have one hand free to card through sweet-smelling curls, then switches to soothing circles along a knobbly spine, turning his head to nudge his nose and chin against his kid's hair and forehead, mumbling out a low rumble of reassurances, just waiting for Izuku's breathing to even back out, damp breaths pressing against the side of his neck.

It takes a little while, but Izuku does mostly calm down, luckily never spiralling into a full-blown panic attack. A shuddering exhale precedes a firm tap to Aizawa's shoulder and he crouches a little to lower Izuku more easily to the floor.

'Thanks Dad.'  He really shouldn't be surprised at the sign - Izuku's been close to going nonverbal all night - but Aizawa is still a little saddened over it.

"No worries kiddo. Shall we look through these?"

'Please.'

And so they do. The photo album and recipe book are only skimmed through, the few letters, ticket stubs and notes that are tucked in amongst their pages checked over to be sure they belonged to Izuku, then replaced and another page turned. Aizawa keeps an eye on his son, taking in how his body language is tense but neutral, not allowing himself to be overly emotional. Not the healthiest option, but likely the most sensible for now. A breakdown can wait until they're safe at home.

As such, Aizawa says nothing to Izuku as they put the photo albums to the side, then move on to the clothing. As expected, it's primarily jumpers and skirts. All of the sweaters and cardigans are immediately put with the albums for Izuku, and then Aizawa patiently waits as his kid separates the remaining items into two piles. One with things for Mitsuki to keep - the only blouse, a denim skirt and two of the dresses - and keeps the other skirts and dresses for himself, with a signed explanation of,

'I think I might repurpose them. Make tops or pouches or maybe a quilt out of them?'

"It's up to you kiddo and you have plenty of time to figure it out, but a quilt would definitely last well."  Izuku nods along thoughtfully, and folds the last few items neatly.

'Would you pass me the box?' he signs and Aizawa shifts up onto his knees, leaning on the edge of the bed to reach said box from where they're sat opposite each other on the floor.

"It's fairly heavy," he warns, and Izuku takes it easily, setting it down gently, then unlatches the top.

"Oh," he breathes out, immediately recognising the silver bracelet embedded with a single pearl, and the pretty emerald earrings that are both settled on the top. His Mum's favourite jewellery pieces.

"Kid?" Aizawa enquires, clearly a bit concerned as he leans forwards to look at the jewellery box's contents.

'It's fine. I'm fine. Just... a lot.'

"I bet it is. If you'd rather sort through it later, that's fine, I can always bring anything you want the Bakugous to have back around another day."

'I... please.'

"Got it. Why don't you take the clothes downstairs and put them in the car- let me- here, have the car keys. I'll leave the things for Mitsuki-san in the hallway and bring down the rest of it, alright kid?"  Izuku nods mutely, offering a slightly softer expression that isn't quite a smile, and stands to leave, stack of clothes in hand.

Unfortunately, at the genkan, he meets Katsuki, who for a moment looks like he's going to keep on walking past. But then he sees the clothes - Inko's clothes - in Izuku's hands, and his expression twists.

"That hobo-looking fucker is really your adopted Dad?"  Izuku bristles inwardly, because only he gets to insult his Dadzawa, but he nods in answer all the same.

"Since the fucking USJ shit went down?" Izuku, again, nods silently. Bakugou seems even more frustrated by it though, teeth grinding.

"What the fuck is wrong with you Deku, why won't you answer me?"  Izuku opens his mouth, but his throat is filled with tar, ivy winding like bands of iron around his ribs, and he can't speak. He tries, because he knows the blond won't pay a lick of attention to him finger-spelling, but-

"Fucking answer me!"

This time, Izuku goes to snarl at Bakugou, fed up, overwrought and defensive, but even as he straightens up, the taller boy lashes out, swiping Inko's clothes out his hands. And neither would think any more of it, not in the moment, if not for the quiet popping sound that accompanies the movement, and the subtle scent of scorched fabric that follows the pile to the floor.

They both stare at the fallen clothing, eyes wide. One skirt is laid out above the others, a perfect little starburst scorching the pastel floral pattern of it.

There's a quick thudding of feet as Aizawa rushes down the stairs, the rest of Inko's things in hand, Quirk flared into life and immediately focused on Bakugou. Neither teen moves though, both still transfixed by the damaged skirt.

"Izuku, are you-" But a growl from Katsuki cuts the man off, as oddly glistening crimson eyes focus on the greenette, popping fists clenched at his sides.

"Look, I- ugh, fucking hell- I didn't mean- I'm sorry alright?! I know I've been a shit or whatever and that was Auntie Inko's fucking stuff and you didn't deserve my fucking shittiness all these stupid fucking years and it's fucking good you've got a Dad but- I- You- ARGH!" And then he's gone, storming up the stairs past them, leaving both of the Aizawas blinking at the empty space left behind.

Only when she bustles over to pick up the damaged skirt do they notice that Mitsuki - with Masaru in tow - had also come running at the shouts and small explosions.

"Kami- I'm so sorry Izuku-kun, Aizawa. He-"

'It's fine. At least he... apologised?'  Izuku signs, crouching beside the blonde to help pick up the clothing.

"Perhaps. You Midoriyas always were soft-hearted though," Mitsuki huffs, distinctly fond. All the same, at this point Aizawa is more than eager to get Izuku home, so he rushes them through the remaining pleasantries, mentions that he might drop a few more pieces off once the teen has been able to go through them all the properly, then ushers Izuku out the door.

Having tucked everything safely in the back footwells, both Aizawas slump into their seats. Without a moment's hesitation, the pro dumps his capture weapon around his son's neck and presses a knife into his hands, clasping the trembling fingers in his own for a long few moments, until they're a little more still and curl naturally around the knife handle.

"Home?"   Izuku ducks his face further into his capture weapon, but nods all the same, verdant eyes peering up at his Dad through thick lashes.

"Good job today kiddo. We can relax once we get home, alright? I bet Cadaver and Caitlin will want lots of pets tonight, what with Kimchi getting all the attention earlier..." And as he starts to drive them back to their flat, Aizawa keeps on talking, a steady stream of near-meaningless words that do their part in grounding his kid.

He isn't much looking forward to the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

Aizawa hadn't been entirely wrong. Saturday night, after the dinner, didn't result in nightmares. Instead, it resulted in an all-nighter from Izuku, despite the man's best efforts. But cats in the kid's lap, tucked into his Dad's side with an old hero documentary, then one on dolphins, on the telly didn't do it. And when the man finally succumbed to his own exhaustion, he woke up three hours later to find Izuku sprawled on the floor, texting and scribbling in his notebook alternately. It was still dark, not quite the grey of pre-dawn, and judging by the veritable mountain of blankets piled atop of his now-prone body, Izuku had settled Aizawa down himself. Perhaps the number of blankets was excessive, but he wasn't going to begrudge it. Izuku had cared enough to bother after all.

"Did you get any sleep kid?"

If the way Izuku jumps isn't telling, nothing else would be. The answer's a definite no. Dammit, Aizawa had some hope that he might have, but he should have known better, after the evening they'd had.

"Hey kiddo, once you've finished that bit of analysis, fancy trying to update your code together? We never did finish that up." When he sees those the shadows in his son's eyes fleeing in the wake of a burst of delighted vibrancy, Aizawa allows himself a soft smile, and he reaches over to brush Izuku's curls back from his forehead, nearly toppling off of the sofa to do so.

Izuku's failure to flinch, and then the little giggle he lets out when his Dad nearly overbalances, lighten the awful weight that had settled in Aizawa's chest hours ago. Izuku will be alright. He'll make sure of it.

Of course, being there for his son doesn't solve everything. It doesn't stop Izuku from being sleepless and restless, from fidgeting with his pen like he would a knife, and Aizawa doesn't hesitate to sling his capture weapon around his son's neck, and then drags their favourite blankets from the pile on the sofa - he hasn't missed how Izuku's trembles are interspersed with shivers - and drapes them over himself and Izuku, now lying next to each other on the floor, sides pressed together, safe in a little huddle of warmth and soft words as they assign symbols and debate syntax, taking the kid's original code and adapting it, bettering it, challenging themselves to make it something Nedzu would have to take time to solve. It's fun. Admittedly, not exactly conducive to sleep, and they're very much still awake well after dawn breaks, but to see the tension drop out of his son minute by minute is more than worth it in the pro's eyes. Hopefully Izuku can stay this calm.

It's not to be. Sunday, for all that they're tired, starts off well enough. They eat, do some homework and grading respectively, then head out to spar at NightVeil's warehouse, dropping a coffee and pastry off for Tsukauchi on their way back home. But when they get back, Aizawa showers first, followed by Izuku. Yet Izuku doesn't come out of the bathroom, and the shower doesn't shut off.

Concerned, Aizawa stands outside the door and calls out. A strangled whimper replies, and he almost barges in at the awful sound, but he restrains himself.

"Izuku, kid, do you need anything? Can I do anything?"

There are a few painful beats of silence, the background of the shower muffling Izuku's breathing, but then his son gasps out a dull,

"K-keep talk-king." And so Aizawa does. Hand on the door knob, he talks about what he's planning for lunch, and how he thought they could nap afterwards, and how Hizashi would call doing so a 'siesta' because of his obsession with Europe and America, but Aizawa thinks that's illogical because a nap is a nap and they are sacred and always valid, so why should he bother giving it a different name at a different time because really, he can't be bothered to learn more vocabulary at his age, thank you very much, let alone the fact that most people here in Japan wouldn't understand him...

By now, the shower has shut off and there have been a few squeaks and shuffles, all overlapped by Izuku's beleaguered breathing. Is Aizawa worried about the nigh-on panic attack sounds? Definitely. All the same, he keeps on talking, reassuring himself with the fact that Izuku is clearly moving around and hopefully getting dressed and the sooner that happens, the sooner he can pull his son into a hug and figure out what happened.

When the door is finally pulled open, the underground hero almost falls after it, but he catches himself without a thought and crouches a little to be eye-level with his kid. The haunted haze over his eyes is not promising at all.

"Hey kiddo, wanna say what happened or just go and sit down?" By Kami Aizawa wants to know, but he refuses to push Izuku too hard over it just yet.

'Water went cold... Bad memories. Couldn't get out.'  Whether that means he couldn't get out of the shower or out of his own head, or even both, Aizawa doesn't know, but none of them are good. 

"Alright kid. Let's settle back down, okay? Do you want space or touch?"

'Spa... Just close?'

"You got it." And so Aizawa stays beside his kid, not quite touching, as he guides Izuku towards the sofa and prompts him to sit down, draping a few of their blankets around his shoulders, careful to avoid any actual contact, and is relieved when Caitlin heads over to the greenette of her own volition and has settled against his thigh, purring steadily. It clears a little of the dazed glaze to Izuku's eyes, and Aizawa will take that. For now, it's enough.

The next morning, Izuku jolts awake to his alarm, and manages to flop a hand at his phone until the blaring noise stops. But then he stops again, muscles unwilling to comply and lacking enough willpower to force them to get him up. Instead, he lays there, staring at nothing, and drifts.

Less than a year ago, he wouldn't have gotten out of bed. The workers at his group home would have ignored him. School would've probably just marked him in without checking. But now, he has a Dad. And he doesn't consciously think of it, but a part of him knows that the man will probably be worrying about him. Which, honestly, he feels awful about, because he worries the man more than enough already, and really he's not worth worrying over and-

"Kiddo, you awake?" Aizawa's voice comes through the door, a gentle knock accompanying it. Izuku can't bring himself to reply.

"Izuku?" He goes on, pushing the bedroom door open. His often dead-pan face is neutral, but the furrow of his forehead and the depth of his eyes show his worry. Normally that would prompt some kind of cheekiness from Izuku but right now, utterly exhausted both emotionally and physically, he can only blink up at the man apathetically.

"Kid? I know you had a rough night, but are you up for school?" Izuku can only shrug. The movement is largely hidden by the numerous blankets piled on top of him, but his Dad doesn't miss it. He frowns further in response.

"Want me to sit with you for a minute?" That one Izuku can nod to.

"Alright then. Budge over a little, brat," Aizawa prompts, nudging his kid's shoulder until he rolls from his side to his back, leaving a good portion of the bed clear for the man to settle on. And so he does, depositing his utility belt on he bedside table, then goes to sit on top of the blankets, only pausing when a single whine issues from his kid. What...? Oh. He can do that. 

Glad that his hero uniform was fresh out of the drier this morning and therefore clean, Aizawa lifts up the edges of his kid's blankets and slips under, quick to tuck them back down after himself as he's half-sat against the headboard, keeping as much of the warmth in as he can. For him, it's a bit stuffy, but he can see that Izuku is craving that same heat, so he won't complain. Instead, he shifts a hand to lie, unmoving, as near to his kid's curled up form as he can get without touching him. It seems like one of those days that he's going to be funny about touch. Poor brat. Still though, Aizawa is gratified when it only takes a count of thirty-nine seconds for a hesitant, trembling hand to meet his own beneath the sheets and clasp on with desperation. He soothes his thumb over the back of his kid's knuckles with slow, rasping strokes, heedless of the small ridge of a scar.

"It's alright kiddo, I'm here, whatever you need," he offers, not surprised to receive no reply.

Over the course of the next minute or two, Izuku reels himself in, his grasp reaching further up Aizawa's arm, shifting slightly closer each time, until eventually his grip transfers from the hero's arm to his waist, and he latches on even tighter, curled into his side. The man resists the urge to sigh, simply wrapping his now-free arm against the kid's back. Izuku sniffles. Ah, fuck, hopefully the kid doesn't start crying - they're both exhausted already and it's the last thing the brat needs. But then, before any tears can start trickling, a loud meow echoes from the doorway. Looking over, Aizawa is surprised to see all three of their cats there, looking oddly intent. And, as though prompted by his attention, they all pad over and leap up onto Izuku's bed with the two of them. Izuku startles, then relaxes once they all start purring. Weird creatures. But Aizawa will take that, when considering that said weirdos are pawing and kneading at the blankets on and around the greenette, each settling against him and purring like three little engines. Even Kimchi. And at first Izuku doesn't react. But then, second by second, a tension that Aizawa hadn't even noticed seems to leach out of him, and something about Izuku's apathetic expression melts to somewhere in between relaxed and melancholy. Still not good, but somewhat better. He'll take it.

Unfortunately, ten minutes later, Aizawa notices the time as his phone pings from his belt and he can't help but sigh.

"Sorry kiddo, but it's getting late. You want to go to classes today?" Hopefully, Izuku will want to, but when his mental health problems kick in like this, Aizawa is more than willing to give him some leeway on things like classes. Izuku is clever and capable, both academically and heroically, and if it helps him emotionally, the pro hero is willing to allow him to miss a day or two.

"I-" But Izuku's voice gives out, soft and hoarse to begin with. When he looks vaguely frustrated with himself, Aizawa takes a moment to push their blankets down a little, making it easy for Izuku to reveal his hands and sign, and also takes the chance to brush his kid's hair back out of his face, smoothing calloused fingers over the brat's forehead. He allows his face to soften further when Izuku leans into it.

"Kid?" he prompts. After a moment, Izuku worms his hands out of the blankets and begins to sign, hands a bit unsteady,

'I don't want to be alone.' Oh, kid...

"Teachers' lounge, or classes?" he offers instead.

'Teachers-' he hesitates, shakes his head a little then goes on,
'Classes. But- But I can leave?' 

"Of course you can kiddo; I'm proud of you for being willing to push yourself. Just don't push too far, understood?" Izuku blinks once in reply, shoves his face further against Aizawa's side for a long second, then releases his grip and slumps a little in place. The cats continue to purr around them. And finally, Aizawa gets up and shuffles around Izuku's room, grabbing his kid's uniform, pants and long-sleeved undershirt and piling them on the desk. As he leaves the room, he picks up Izuku's bag to dump by the front door - the easier he makes the brat's morning, the better, and he knows that everything is already packed. 

A minute or two later, as Aizawa is pulling out jelly pouches and the bentos he had made last night, putting the latter away into his messenger bag and the kid's school bag respectively - Izuku is never hungry on mornings like this and, quite frankly, neither is he. Jelly pouches will at least give them nutrients. The cats come trotting into the living-kitchen area, heralding Izuku's shuffled arrival.

"Here kiddo," he says, pushing two of the four pouches across the bar. Izuku neither replies nor looks up, but he does grab them and begin to half-heartedly suck them up. Aizawa takes it as a win. Turning at Cadaver's demanding cry, Aizawa feeds the cats and fills up their water, offering a few pets for them too. They're good, for little demons.

Ten minutes later, Aizawa and Izuku are getting into the car, their bags in the back and a classical radio station on quietly as background noise. Neither of them talk, but it doesn't bother the hero, knowing that, whilst not ideal, it is fairly standard when Izuku is having a bad day. Hopefully it gets better.

Entering UA through the car entrance, a street away and underground, Aizawa parks in the - by UA's standards - small car park and turns to his kid,

"Want to wait in the faculty room with me?"  Izuku visibly hesitates, thinking, then gives a single nod. With a small grin, no hint of Cheshire malice to it, Aizawa slowly reaches over and carefully ruffles Izuku's hair.

"C'mon then kiddo."

And so they meander up to the teachers' lounge, relishing in how quiet and empty the corridors always are at half seven. Homeroom doesn't start until quarter past eight, so they're half an hour ahead of most student schedules. Of course, half of the teachers are also arriving around now. Regardless, it isn't long before Aizawa is sat at his desk, slightly hunched over both because of the fucking paperwork he's trying to fill out and half because Izuku has decided to sit on the back of his chair as though it was the seat of it, balancing without thought or effort, solely focused on where his back is pressed against the shoulders and head of his Dad, clearly craving any and all safe physical contact. None of the other faculty had yet to comment - however, these were the quieter, more reserved teachers such as Thirteen and Ectoplasm who were less likely to make a point out of something. Aizawa was not looking forward to when Nemuri and Hizashi arrived. They were sure to make a racket and probably startle him and the kid and then-

"Shou- WHAT THE FUCK IS IZUKU DOING?!?!" Hizashi yells, various objects jumping up at the reverberating sound. And so does Izuku. In fact, he somehow pushes himself off of the back of Aizawa's chair and ends up balanced, crouching, on top of Aizawa's head. Feeling his neck crick and tensing his shoulders to compensate, Aizawa grits out,

"Kid- get down please." His voice sounds harsh but he can't help it because this hurts. Izuku yelps, then whimpers softly and Aizawa realises the problem. 

"Grab on," he grits out, raising his arms to either side above his head. Immediately, Izuku latches on and tucks his legs up, now holding himself in a ball above Aizawa's head, their arms locked to keep him suspended. Then, awkwardly, carefully ignoring the stares of the other teachers, Izuku stretches his legs out in front of him and tenses his grip, just once. Understanding the signal, nonverbal though it may be, Aizawa begins to stretch his arms back behind his head, lowering Izuku somewhat until the kid lets go and pushes off, just enough to easily land on his feet behind the hero's chair. Knowing his kid, Aizawa immediately turns his chair and pulls the kid close. Izuku is already signing - 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry' - and his hands keep on bumping Aizawa's chest but he doesn't care, just keeps a careful hold on his kid.

"Kid, it's fine. I get it. At least you had good balance," he praises, hoping to distract Izuku. And it works. Well, somewhat; at the very least, he stops signing apologies and only sags against his Dad. Keeping him tucked close with one hand, Aizawa turns his head to face Hizashi - as well as Snipe and Nemuri, who are stood beside him and look just as shocked.

"Shouta..."

"Yes." It's not a question, nor an invitation. But at least it's a reply.

"Kami, I'm sorry Shou. Is he- are you both alright; you're not hurt are you? I'm so sorry! Do you want me to get Recovery G-"

"Hizashi. Shut up. Don't bother apologising, accidents and all that shit. Just try not to do it again." Hizashi nods rapidly, looking ridiculously relieved to have not been verbally flayed alive, or physically for that matter. At that, Aizawa returns his full attention to his kid.

"Why don't we head to homeroom now, kid? Whilst the corridors are still fairly empty?" Izuku shrugs a little, then nods. Aizawa gently pushes him away,

"Go grab your bag then." And he gathers up his own sleeping bag and takes a moment to clap Hizashi's shoulder on the way past. It's not his friend's fault that he's an idiot, nor that today is a bad day, or that last night had been a bad night, so he probably doesn't deserve to tear himself apart with guilt. But by the same token, Izuku is his priority right now.

Accordingly, the father-son pair make their way to the classroom. Izuku is still shuffling along, bag carefully slung on his back, visibly leaning towards his Dad, even as they walk. Aizawa resists the urge to either scoop his kid up, or at least lay a comforting hand on his head or shoulder. Something to comfort him. But Izuku was clearly feeling a bit skittish, not to mention that they were in the middle of the school corridors. So instead, they simply walk side-by-side, silent. 

It doesn't take long to reach 1-A's door and Aizawa shunts it open in his usual way - in other words, silently, without slamming it against the door jamb. He enters first, immediately scanning the room for threats, or rather for loud, misbehaving students, and finds only a half-full class of chatting teenagers. Aizawa takes the necessary fraction of a second to signal  'safe' behind his back, for Izuku's sake. Taking the room in properly as he walks in, Aizawa registers that in the far corner, where Izuku sits, Shinsou and Todoroki have already arrived, with Todoroki turned in his chair as they sign to each other. Whereas usually he would be able to feel Izuku perk up merely at the sight of them, nothing about his kid's aura changes, and he can't help but scowl at the fact. Fucking hell, his kid really is having an awful day. As he quickly wriggles into his sleeping bag and settles in the corner of the room, able to see the entire class and only a dash down the length  of the room to get to his kid, he takes note of how Izuku skirts around the edges of the room, simultaneously hyper-vigilant and staring down at his own feet. As he approaches his two friends, they both look up with open expressions - Shinsou actually outright smiling - but they immediately fall into concern upon seeing Izuku. 

'Green bean-' Shinsou falters, gaze flicking to Aizawa for a second before going on,
'Anything we can do? Was it just a bad night?' Aizawa doesn't miss how as Izuku comes to a stop beside Todoroki, the heterochromatic teen makes an aborted move to hold the greenette's hand or wrist, but stops himself.

'Bad everything,' Izuku signs in return, Aizawa just able to make out the movements at the awkward angle and- Kami, his kid. He hates days like this.

'Touch?' comes Todoroki's abrupt question. Izuku hesitates, falters, goes to reply, then merely shakes his head once. The other two teens scowl and frown respectively, but neither push and when Izuku seems to crumple in on himself, both get up to crouch slightly in front of him, signing rapidly. It's a myriad of 'it's okay', 'green bean', 'Izuku', 'don't worry' and 'we understand' - it's nothing but reassurance and validation and Aizawa is so fucking thankful that Izuku has found good friends. Understanding friends. Kami knows the kid needs them.

Half an hour later, homeroom has begun and some forms are being handed out. Okay, maybe it's more of a pop quiz, but sue him - he's got to keep the hellspawn on their toes somehow.  But then the kids are all getting out pencil cases and from the back of the class there is a loud meow. What the-

Fuck. Fuck, fuck and fuck again because for some reason Izuku's backpack is now open to reveal fucking Cadaver, of all things, poking his head out and meowing loudly. Really?

"Problem child," he begins, signing along as he speaks out of sheer habit,
"Why is there a cat in your bag?" And actually, he would like to know. Surely Izuku knows better than to bring one of the cats into school, no matter how rough he may be feeling. Maybe Cadaver snuck in? But surely one of them would have noticed...?

'I don't know. Must have snuck in. I'm really sorry.'  And Izuku looks so very done. The bags under his eyes are entire luggage trains, and Aizawa despises the defeated slump to his shoulders. But maybe he can do something about that?

"If Kouda can get him to stay quiet, you may keep him in class. If not, he's going to the faculty room. Understood?" Izuku nods, eyes just that tiny bit brighter, and Aizawa mentally pats himself on the back for a job well done. Now, so long as Cadaver stays pretty quiet, all should be fine...

The instant Izuku picks Cadaver up, to a round of coos from throughout the classroom, the grey tomcat shuts up and carefully bops the greenette's nose. Izuku tiredly half-smiles for a split second before settling the animal in his lap, whereupon Cadaver promptly starts purring softly and, presumably, begins to doze off again. Looks like they won't even need Kouda to talk to him.

"Good enough," Aizawa reports, then redirects the class' attention to the handouts. They do actually have some work to do.

The second the bell rings for lunch, Aizawa is back in the classroom, startling Ectoplasm, who had been teaching them, and makes his way over to Izuku. Thankfully, his arrival does exactly what he had hoped - it stops the rest of the hellspawn crowding around his kid to see the cat. Izuku does not need that on a day like today. So instead, Aizawa opens the door the instant the lesson ends and reaches his kid in a matter of seconds.

'You still alright kiddo?' he asks, angling himself so that only those closest - in other words Shinsou and Todoroki - would be able to tell what he's signing.

'Cadaver helped.' Well, that was one good thing about their bastard cats, they were pretty damn comforting, Aizawa should know.

'Good. Still up for afternoon classes? You don't have hero training today.' Izuku hesitates a moment, face utterly blank, before shrugging with a nod. Aizawa pauses, glances around the room, glaring slightly at Ashido and Kirishima who are lingering, likely hoping to see Cadaver, and they sulk off at his warning. Now alone with his kid and his friends, he reaches over to ruffle his kid's curls.

'You know what I said this morning brat,'  he reminds, because it is very true. He is incredibly proud of his kid - always is - but days like today highlight the fact. He has a very strong son. Now he turns his focus to his brat's friends.

"Please continue to look out for him. Thanks," he grunts, then straightens up, pats Cadaver and then Izuku on the head, and leaves. Luckily, none of the hellspawn have decided to lie in wait outside the class. He would have murdered them.

Fifty minutes later, or rather just under that, Aizawa may or may not be hiding in the vents above 1-A's door, watching out for his son and his two friends. He'd kept them from being ambushed on the way to lunch, now he's going to do the same for the way back from lunch. He had noted with some approval that Izuku had decided to wait until the last minute to arrive, so that it would be more likely that Nemuri would be around to prevent any overwhelming situations, as she had been warned to. In fact, she was already in the class and, from what he could hear, occupying the hellspawn that had already arrived, which was a suspiciously large portion of them, with gossip and salacious questions. No surprises there. And either way, it worked, so he'd take that. And yep, as expected, Izuku, Todoroki and Shinsou arrive at the door a minute before the bell, longer for a few seconds, then Todoroki enters first, making a path for his two friends, with Shinsou flanking the greenette to physically block Izuku from their classmates. Perhaps they're a little overprotective, but Aizawa can't help but approve. He's probably the same, although he'd never admit it to anyone but the kid in question. He has a reputation to keep after all.

An hour later, Aizawa enters the 1-A classroom to take over for their Hero Ethics & Laws lesson. And he is relieved to see that Izuku, whilst still visibly tired and apathetic, hands somewhat trembling, is overall alright. He doesn't look panicked or overly unsettled, and Cadaver is no longer in his lap but instead draped around his neck like a scarf. Hm, probably reminds of him of Aizawa's capture scarf. Or well, the weight and warmth of it likely does. Good. If it helps, it helps. Slumping at the podium with a stack of papers, Aizawa holds in a groan at the various expressions of horror and zeal amongst the class. Ah, they know exactly what these are then. Forcing himself to straighten up once more and slouches forward to begin handing out the sheaves of paper.

"Right hellspawn, you're getting your essays back. Overall, the standard was acceptable," so what if he makes it sound like acceptable is bad? The brats need some motivation, for the most part,
"But a few of you are going to be re-writing these with actual research. I'm not stupid, only tired, I can tell when you've bullshitted. Conversely, some of you produced exceptional work. Good job." Never let it be said that he won't praise the hellspawn when they do something well. Maybe Izuku really has softened him.

That evening, upon returning home, Izuku immediately lets Cadaver down onto the floor from his arms, then stumbles to collapse face-first onto the sofa. Aizawa would have been worried, but this was a common occurrence from both of them, honestly. But Izuku is still in his uniform.

"Hey kiddo, might want to get changed," he prompts, leaning over the back of the sofa to gently prod at his kid's shoulder. Izuku merely twists onto his side and draws his limbs up into a foetal position, groaning.

"I know, but you'll just end up uncomfortable. Go put some joggers on or something."  Pyjamas probably wouldn't be a good idea, would likely only make his kid more lethargic, but comfortable lounge wear was always a good idea in Aizawa's opinion.

"Mhm," comes the immediate grumble. The man only pokes his shoulder again, a tad harder.

"...borrow?" And that single word is enough.

"Sure kiddo. I've got a pile of clean stuff on top of my dresser."

With slow, apathetic movements, Izuku heaves himself to his feet and wonders off further into the apartment. Aizawa follows the sound of Izuku's footsteps, even as he goes into the little kitchen area to start thinking about dinner. His own room, a little shuffling, then Izuku's room, some more shuffling... silence. And continued silence. Better go check.

"Hey kid, you alright in there?" He calls, voice low and carrying instead of loud, knuckles tapping once on the barely-ajar door. A muffled sigh, too noncommittal to be positive or negative, is all the response he gets. Eyebrows scrunching together a little, he goes on,

"I'm gonna come in Izuku, that alright?" Receiving even less of an answer this time, he shrugs to himself and gradually pushes the door open, leaving plenty of time for Izuku to protest, albeit no such noise comes forth. With the door open, Aizawa can see how Izuku is simply sat on the edge of his bed, uniform discarded on the floor, a pale green pair of joggers on but then one of Aizawa's cheesy cat hoodies on over the top. The dark grey thing, covered in pastel chibi cat faces, reaches almost to his knees, his hands utterly swamped in the material, and it would be adorable if not for the worryingly vacant expression on his kid's face.

"Hey kiddo," he offers, voice soft and almost sing-song as he steps forward and slowly moves to crouch in front if his kid,

"You wanna come join this old man in the living room? Thought we could watch another one of those old crime movies together."

Something, either his words or his mere presence, seems to bring Izuku back to himself somewhat as those green eyes clear a bit, actually focusing on him now, and the brat nods, once, in reply. Aizawa allows a small, warm smile to escape. He rises to his feet at roughly the same rate as the kid does so as not to risk startling him and with careful, telegraphed movements, he stretches his arm across Izuku's shoulders and tucks him in close to the man's side, unspeakably pleased when the greenette lets out a little contented whimper at the warmth and familiarity. 

So what if his kid has been having a bad day? Aizawa will be here to make it as much better as he can and nothing will change that. Nothing.

Chapter Text

The next Friday, now only three weeks before the class' final exams, they have the first of a few pro heroes come in for a guest lecture during random periods, this one being before lunch. Aizawa gestures Trapler, the Tripwire Hero, into the room and hands him the newly-printed attendance sheet for reference, then settles in a chair that he'd dragged in for appearances' sake. Shame he can't nap, really.

Twenty minutes through the period, the guest speaker glances down at his attendance sheet and asks,

"Hm, let's see, can I have Aizawa-kun come to the front for a demonstration, please?"

"Oh- yes," Izuku replies, rushing to his feet to get to the front of the classroom without a thought.

Then he freezes as everyone turns to stare at him.

"Fuck."

From a corner of the room, his Dad snorts, perfectly in sync with Hitoshi. At his swearing, the rest of their classmates only look more incredulous.

"Language, brat. Hellspawn, we'll address this later. Keep your mouths shut and pay attention to Trapler; Iida, you're up." And with that, they get back on track. The lesson with the guest hero is fascinating, but Izuku finds it hard to concentrate past the rush of panic through his mind. He should have known better than to legally take his Dad's name - it was bound to result in backlash sooner or later. And Kami, what if there really was a traitor within the school? Maybe this would let them find out who his Dad was - that would put them both at risk. Fuck, he was so stupid. Just because he wanted to feel like he belonged, feel even closer to his Dadzawa, he allowed himself to put them both in danger like an utter imbecile. Kami, why did he ever-

"Izuku, kiddo. Chill out." And suddenly there's a swathe of warm, rough fabric around his neck and he ducks his face into it, breathing too heavily. If his Dad is here, they're both fine. They're safe.

Once he's brought himself down from the beginnings of a panic attack, Izuku dares to look up at his classmates. At some point, the guest speaker must have left, with his Dad now standing beside his desk and, judging by the empty seats and two presences he can feel behind him, Shouto and Hitoshi have come to stand by him as well. Everyone else is eyeing the four of them up. There's a combination of curiosity, incredulity, bewilderment and understanding, ranging from person to person, with more than one pair of wide eyes focused on the capture weapon that has been deposited around Izuku's neck and that he may or may not be clutching tightly.

"Right hellspawn, listen up, 'cause I'm not going to be repeating this. Izuku is legally Aizawa Izuku through an adoption carried out post-USJ, due to previously unsatisfactory living conditions. Please continue to refer to him as Midoriya, for our collective safety. I trust I don't need to impress upon you the very real danger of revealing our true relationship to the world, even in passing?" And thank Kami their class is actually pretty sensible when it comes down to it, because everyone nods in agreement at that, even Bakugou, many shooting concerned glances at Izuku himself. Untucking his face from the folds of the capture weapon, he offers them a wobbly smile and allows himself to lean sideways, against his Dad. Several of the girls coo at that, particularly when the man shifts slightly to accommodate him, a hand settling on his back, and Izuku can't see it, but he can feel how his Dad activates his Quirk at the impertinence, the hero's offence palpable. 

"Aw, don't you think we're cute though?" he teases quietly.

His Dad immediately steps away, leaving Izuku falling to the floor, support gone, before he grabs the capture weapon that is still looped around the brat's neck and shoulders to halt his fall halfway down, staring down with the beginning of a smirk amongst his smirk. Well, two can play at that game.

Squirming in the capture scarf's hold so that he was looking up at his Dad properly, his back to the floor, Izuku allows a shit-eating grin to escape and then, quick as a snake, he reaches up to grip his Dad's arm and, on pure strength and flexibility, flips himself up and over the pro's shoulder, now with his front to his Dad's back and, even as he prepares to land, one foot lashes out to take the man's knees out. Aizawa's legs give in, but as he starts to fall, he finds his own grip on Izuku's arm and yanks him back over his shoulder, this time bringing him crashing down on a desk.

Both of them stop at that point, a bit winded, having completely forgotten about their audience.

"That was cruel," Izuku pouts, head hanging upside down over the edge of his desk, eyeing up the pro hero with faux-hurt.

"You attacked first," The man retorts, rearranging himself into a more comfortable cross legged position on the floor, ready to banter, his Cheshire cat grin at the ready.

"I warned you!"

"Only with a smile, you little shit."

"Well you're meant to be a teacher. You shouldn't slam the students into classroom paraphernalia."

"I'll school you any time, brat."

"Caterpillar hobo."

"Problem child."

"Cat fu-"

"Uh, you two, sorry to interrupt, but..." They both inwardly startle a little, suddenly very aware that all of that had an audience and stare at each other for a long few seconds. Then they groan in sync. Fuck, they're so dumb sometimes. The problem is, old habits are hard to break and old habits include initiating random spars whenever one, or both, of them is feeling a bit antsy. Like right now.

Abruptly, Aizawa just flops back further to lie down, nearly braining himself on Shinsou's desk leg, muttering,

"Just let me die here."

"Then perish, bitch," Izuku giggles. At this point it's far too late. They have no dignity left. The whole class is aware of their relationship, up to a point at least, and they've just seen them spar and banter like- well, like a pair of teenagers. Kami, Hizashi and Nemuri are never going to let him live this one down, are they?

"Right. To conclude, this one's my problem child. Keep your gossip-mouths shut or there will be consequences. No questions." The class merely continue to stare, gobsmacked.

Heaving himself to his feet, Aizawa scoops his capture weapon up off the ground and shakes it out above Izuku, still prone on his own desk. The collected dust and two pieces of fluff from the floor it had accumulated fall on his face and uniform, and he shoots to his feet, hacking, glaring at his Dad.

"Bastard. I'll set Cadaver on you."

"Bold of you to assume Kimchi wouldn't stop him."

"Kimchi's a bitch, she wouldn't protect anyone, let alone you after sitting on her last night."

"Fuck. Fine. Bold of you to assume I won't put Caitlin in the way."

"No!" Izuku gasps in horror as the man starts to walk away,
"You wouldn't do that to the baby!"

"Try me, kiddo. Fucking try me." And with that Aizawa is gone, headed to the staff room for lunch, leaving Izuku the sole focus of the class' collective freak out.  (Okay, so maybe he waits outside to make sure it doesn't get too loud and overwhelming for Izuku, but he'll leave soon, alright?)

"Wait, there's a baby too?!" Kaminari asks, as confused as everyone else but clearly focusing on that.

"A baby? Yeh, I guess." And Izuku barely resists cackling at the further outcry that rings out at that. After all, Caitlin is a baby. But like, the 'this cat is the most innocent, adorable princess in the world and needs protecting' kind of way. Certainly not the 'wailing, ugly infant' way. But hey, if they choose to misinterpret that, then who is he to tell them differently? And Kami, this is too good - now Ashido is exclaiming that,

"Of course, that makes sense! Because Sensei and Midoriya are so tired all the time - and babies are awake all through the night and stuff. " And best of all, some of their classmates are agreeing with her.

'Can we go?'  Izuku signs to his two best friends, noticing that Hitoshi too seems close to bursting out laughing. And they nod, prompting the three of them to hurry out, lunches in hand. By the time they're a few metres from the door, none of them can resist laughing at least a little. Kami, that was too good.

It gets even better when, on Monday, Kaminari, Sero and Ashido present Aizawa with a box of baby supplies - some bibs, some toddler outfits (one is hilarious and says 'My Daddy's a hero but he still taught me to say fuck'  which, in a way, is the height of irony) and a veritable pantry of mushed baby food. Aizawa just stares at the box's contents, blinks twice, fastens the trio with a heavily suspicious gaze, then dumps the box under his podium to be dealt with later. That evening, when Izuku and the majority of the teachers are in the faculty room, Aizawa drags the box in and dumps the mess of baby food out on the coffee table.

"We're playing a game. Each time you lose you have to eat one of these. The others choose it for you. I don't think they're poisoned." 

Once the instant uproar dies down, Izuku is by his Dad's side and grinning. The sensible teachers shudder at the sight of the matching ready-to-devour-young-children smiles. The brave ones simply smile in return. Fools. They will soon perish.

And indeed they do. The father-son duo rarely lose a round of dares. They know no fear, chaos is in their blood and, quite frankly, they have the power of sleep deprivation on their side. Even when they do lose, Aizawa, well-used to his jelly pouches, doesn't even flinch at the baby food. And Izuku, who may or may not have resorted to dumpster-diving once or twice (semi-regularly), has had far worse for actual meals. Many of the faculty develop a healthy fear of the two that evening. If Present Mic, All Might and Thirteen can't look at either Aizawas without flinching for several days, or even weeks... Well, who needs to know why?

To the relief of Aizawa's sanity, not too much actually changes with the revelation of Izuku's adoption. For the rest of that first day, several of the class do continually glance between him and Izuku, but the lack of difference soon has them bored, and they seem to move past it.

Of course, after a few days of being polite, Ashido finally breaks and approaches Izuku's little group during lunch, the rest of the Bakusquad in tow, some more reluctant than others.

"Hey guys! Alright if we sit with you lot?" Ururaka, Asui and Iida look to the quiet trio for confirmation, but it is Izuku who, after a long moment, nods his agreement.

"Cool! So, Mido, mind if we ask what it's like to live with Aizawa-sensei? Is he still really grumpy?"

"...Kinda? M-more sleep-deprived than a-anything."

"Wah - probably should have guessed that!" she chirps, and Sero and Kirishima both laugh, because yeh they really should have. This is Aizawa after all.

"Also, turns out all of our parents knew already? Like, it came out during the parent-teacher conferences and Nedzu put it under a non-disclosure agreement! Like spies or something."

"Because p-people want to kill us?"

The laughter stops at that.

"Uh, why did you go with him then? Like, weren't there other families? Like, Sensei is badass and literally the class dad, but you're super clever and cool, so surely you had other o-"

"I'm Quirkless though." And the mood becomes even more sombre at that, Bakugou visibly flinching where he's sat as far from Izuku as possible, and Shouto and Hitoshi shift even closer to Izuku, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and waist respectively. He offers them a shaky smile and speaks once more,
"But I've g-got a family now, and you guys, so it's fine. L-like I said at th-the Sports Festival."

"Well, you definitely still have us!"

"Dude, you're super manly!"

"We love you too Mido - you're awesome!"

"Aw, man, you're too pure!"  Ashido, Kirishima, Kaminari and Sero's immediate proclamations are accompanied by blinding grins, spilled food and a quietly grumbling Bakugou and Izuku can't help but duck his head, trying to hide his own flush. But then he gives in with a quiet squeak, and yanks Hitoshi and Shouto in front of him, trying to hide behind them.

Which backfires because he pulls them too hard and smashes their heads together with a painful thud.

"Ohmigod I'm so sorry!" Izuku yelps, trying to simultaneously examine both of their heads from where they're straightening up with groans, but just ends up with trembling hands buried in their hair and a frantic expression. The three ignore the raucous laughter from around them as they stare at each in mortification and bewilderment respectively.

"Check Hito over first, if you want. He needs his brain more than me," Shouto deadpans, utterly serious, and Hitoshi squawks in some kind of indignation,

"Peppermint, what the he-!"

"Toshi, hush. Bend down for me, let me look."

"Fine, fine," the taller insomniac grumbles, and obligingly hunches, tilting his head so that Izuku can kneel and parse through his thick hair to find the neat little bump at the crown. Izuku runs gentle fingers around and then over it, murmuring soothing nothings when Hitoshi hisses with too much pressure.

"I'm really, really sorry Toshi, but at least you're not bleeding-"

"With his thick skull that's -"

"Hush and let me check you for concussion," Izuku admonishes, no-nonsense, and proceeds to block as much sunlight from Hitoshi's eyes as possible, then jerk his hand back away,
"Right, probably no concussion. Shou, your turn."  By now, the rest of the group has devolved to half-watching, trying to cover up their interest and amusement with eating, but largely failing. Izuku doesn't notice all the same. He's rather wrapped up in a little bubble of Hitoshi and Shouto after all; their attention is focused on each other without exception. It's endearing. Also kind of frustrating.

Luckily for Izuku's guilt, both Hitoshi and Shouto are pretty much fine, barring the bumps hidden amongst their hair. It doesn't stop him apologising five more times, nor their friends and classmates from laughing, but it's not too bad. And in the back of his mind, Izuku is very relieved to find himself still being treated the same by everyone, for them to have all accepted his Dad with barely a pause and to still be talking and smiling with him.

His classmates are wonderful people.

"-and then Tsuka, get this, they just tell me that they care about me?! That I'm really cool? Like, why? How?!"

"Kid, that's exactly what Aizawa and I have been telling you for years now," the detective chides, tone too soft to be truly authoritative, and Izuku blinks at him, expression perfectly visible with his mask abandoned beside him on Tsukauchi's desk. Is he swinging his legs like a little kid? Yes. Is Tsukachi going to call him out on it if he kicks the desk one more time? No doubt about it.

"Yeh, but you two are family. They're just classmates, or, well, friends for a few of them. People my age haven't been nice to me since I was four years old, so UA has been... a thing, you know? They're all so genuine."

"Kid, that's what you deserve. And from more people than just us," Tsukauchi reassures, reaching up to slip a hand under Izuku's hood and ruffle his hair. The greenette leans into the touch.

If that makes Tsukauchi grin and rest his hand there for a few unnecessary extra seconds, then Aizawa isn't back from his coffee run to call him out yet.

Although, the moment Tsukauchi retracts his hand, Aizawa does arrive, tapping the door in that pattern that the three of them memorised over a year ago for an even-numbered Tuesday, then shunting it open without further fanfare. It stops Izuku from having to faff with his mask, or from alarming any of them. They'd learned the hard way that panic attacks aren't fun to deal with.

Regardless, Aizawa enters, a takeaway holder of three cups in hand, and he takes out Izuku's first, passing it over.

"Yo, Eraserdad, you shouldn't have!" Izuku cries, snatching up the proffered cup, but as he raises it he pauses, eyes squinting at his Dad. Damn that deadpan face.

Popping off the lid exposes exactly what he'd expected: fucking tea.

"No, really, you shouldn't have," Izuku goes on, voice utterly flat, and both of the men snort at him, sipping at their fucking coffees. Oh, this is not on. He will not put up with this blasphemy!

"Meanie," he huffs, putting the tea down and flopping back across Tsukauchi's desk as dramatically as possible, crushing several papers without a thought, hood falling back as he stares up at his Dad who is sporting a far too self-satisfied grin. In contrast, the detective isn't laughing anymore, squawking about his paperwork, putting his own coffee aside to shoo Izuku off of them. Of course, Izuku takes advantage of this as he stands obligingly, but immediately dodges behind the man to steal his coffee and chugs half of it at once. Sweet, sweet victory. And oof, actually, Izuku had forgotten how sweet Tsukauchi likes his coffee. Way too heavy on the sugar and cream for Izuku's taste; no, he'd much rather something bitter and black... something like his Dad's. Hm.

Izuku fears no god, Quirk or demon after all.

The greenette keeps his own shit-eating grin as he brandishes Tsukauchi's coffee in front of him, the man positively pouting at him.

"Aw, Tsuka, are you stuck with tea now-"

"Brat, don't be facetious," Aizawa chides, Quirk flaring for a fraction of a second. Coffee is sacred, and they all know it. Which is why Izuku's plan is guaranteed to work, so long as he gets this just right.

"Facetious, me? No, I'm paying homage to the coffee gods-"

"Sacrilege!" His Dad cries, putting his coffee down to jump over the desk at his son. Tsukauchi is too busy catching his kicked-over computer monitor to interfere as Izuku drops his coffee at the perfect moment, knowing Aizawa will go to catch it and give him the time to bounce off of the wall, flip past the pro and snatch up the second coffee cup.

"No." There's warning in Aizawa's tone, like when he's telling Kaminari not to poke a socket whilst touching Bakugou, interlaced with a subtle horror, but Izuku is well-versed in quite simply not listening to his Dad.

"You lose, trickass bitch." And Izuku promptly downs the majority of his Dad's coffee as well. Honestly, the man deserves it for getting him tea of all things. This is the thanks he gets for trying to look after their health?

"I guess you can have the dregs," he comforts, stretching over the desk to offer the mere inch of coffee left with a saccharine smile.

"I will get you, Problem Child. Don't think I won't, because I will. Just you wait,"  Aizawa growls, snatching the remains and drinking it all at once, kind enough to give Tsukauchi back what's left of his as well. Then they all stare at the monstrosity abandoned on the desk.

"Bagsy not me!" They all cry out simultaneously, then glare at each other, scowls suspicious and mistrusting.

"...truce. Give it to Sansa," Izuku finally comments, breaking the stalemate. It takes another moment, but both of the men nod, then Tsukauchi picks up the cup, holding it as far from his body as possible, and Izuku grabs his mask quickly, tugging his hood up as he opens up the door, and lets his Dad hold it open so that he can lead the way along the corridor to the main communal office area.

"Sansaaaaa," he singsongs,
"We come bearing a gift - it's not been tampered with, it's just vile!"  All of the officers look up for a moment, but upon seeing the familiar sight of Kidilante and Eraserhead with Tsukauchi, all go back to their work or conversations. The station is well-used to the trio's chaos by now.

"Dare I ask what that actually translates to?" The cat-headed man asks, eyeing the three of them up with amused eyes but a reasonably wary posture. Wise man.

"That utter heathen bought me tea, even though he should know better. I could feel it in my bones. Suffice to say, we very much don't want it," Izuku reports as Tsukauchi deposits the tea down with a vaguely repulsed expression. All three of them immediately take a step or two back from it. Honestly, it's a miracle Dadzawa could stand to carry the thing casually enough to try and get Izuku to drink it.

"So you're giving it to me?"

"Of course not. It's on your desk for decoration," Tsukauchi replies, perfectly polite and cordial. Izuku high-fives him behind their backs; it is not a quiet sound. All the same, Sansa shrugs, and takes the tea.

And... drinks it?

The trio stare in something like morbid fascination as the cat-man sips for a minute, lets out a little purr, then keeps on drinking. He's enjoying the evil leaf water? Is that even anatomically possible? Bewildered and mildly offended by the mere sight, they return to Tsukauchi's office. They do have some actual casework to be getting done after all. And some nightmares about drinking tea to cultivate.

Chapter Text

The class, now with two weeks until their exams, or just over rather, have come into school for a long Saturday of hero training and revision support. After a warm-up, or what most of them would refer to as a hell exercise, what with Aizawa forcing them to run an obstacle course six times in their hero costumes, and the concrete thing left bruises if you fell, they were now gathered in one of the main gyms.

"Right - no support gear for today’s lesson. We’re fighting fully quirkless hand-to-hand."

There’s am immediate round of groans and cheers as all the students pile their gear along one wall, behind. But Aizawa narrows his eyes at the mere four knives that Izuku has deposited with his pan and bo staff.

"Midoriya- all the knives." His call-out attracts the other teens' attentions and Izuku pouts,

"I’m not gonna use them!"

"Nope."

Izuku only pouts further, then wilts under his Dad’s stare. One after another, he pulls out three more knives from under his shirt, a fourth from behind his thigh holster and a fifth from his boot.

"And the others."

"What others?" He asks, innocence personified. Ashido looks ready to coo adoringly at him. Aizawa, for his part, only activates his Quirk and raises a sceptical eyebrow in challenge.

"Fine, fine." And Izuku proceeds to take four more out - one from his other boot, then one from the sole of each. And one from the small of his back, beneath the hoodie.

"You expect me to believe that's really it?"

Glaring now, Izuku reaches for the back of his head, beneath his stubby braid that may or may not be a piece of his best friends' combined handiwork, and throws the procured knife to stab into the ground between his Dad’s feet, quivering from the sheer force despite being sunk halfway to the hilt in the hard-packed dirt.

"Happy?"

"Quite," the man returns, Cheshire grin in place. What he wouldn't tell anyone is that Izuku actually giving up all of his knives means that he feels safe. Here, surrounded by people that he's only known for a matter of months, Izuku feels safe. It could be because his Dad is here, because he's familiar with his classmates, perhaps even that he's more confident or some combination of them all, but it still means a lot to Aizawa. It's good to see his son doing well.

"Oh fuck off Dadzawa. Toshi, fight me."

"I had pairings, brat!" Doesn't mean that he won't gripe at the kid though.

"I know, and you had me up against Toshi first anyway." Aizawa's cackle jolts the class out of their combined horror and amusement, and they promptly scramble across the gym as the pro proceeds to bark out their sparring partners.

Of course, something goes wrong, as it's wont to do. Kirishima and Ururaka's spar gets a little out of hand, which wouldn't be a massive deal, until the redhead accidentally hardens one of his punches. It promptly tears one of Ururaka's half-fingered gloves and she doesn't realise. Why would she when's she busy twisting around Kirishima, throwing him easily for someone of his weight even without her Quirk active. But then it does activate, partway through the arc of his trajectory, and the change in weight has Ururaka dropping him.

Which sends Kirishima flying across the gym. 

Whilst Aizawa's Erasure gives Kirishima his weight back, it can't stop his momentum entirely. Which, of course, sends him ploughing towards Izuku and Hitoshi, who could have dodged if not for Izuku automatically shoving his friend away without thinking.

And so Izuku takes the full brunt of a flying Kirishima to the head, sending them both tumbling to the floor, barely cushioned by the first few meagre loops of capture weapon that have been thrown at them by a sprinting Aizawa. The redhead is mostly alright, already sitting up and rubbing at his hair, a bit dazed but otherwise fine. Izuku, on the other hand, is prone and the floor and bleeding. From a head wound. Because of course he couldn't avoid injury in pretty much any situation, could he, oh no he was too busy worring his Dad into an early grave-

"Call Recovery Girl over here. And clear a space around Iz- Midoriya. Iida, Yaoyoruzu, Ojiro, help Kirishima to sit up against the wall with some water. Assess any injuries. The rest of you, collect up your things and stay out of the way for now," Aizawa pauses for breath, already kneeling beside his kid, before tacking on in his strongest teacher voice,

"No questions."

The class, thankfully for his patience and their abilities to remain breathing, obey with only worried murmurs amongst themselves. Although Shinsou and Todoroki do linger a few extra seconds.

All the same, Aizawa has to force himself to ignore the way that many of them are staring as he carefully looks Izuku over, checking his pupils - a concussion, no surprise - whist stemming the blood flow one-handed with his capture weapon. It's certainly not the worst wound, or even head wound, he's seen his kid with, but he's kicking himself for allowing it to happen during a bloody school exercise. Although right now, it's far more important to oh-so-gently shift Izuku's head into his lap, uncaring of the blood now trickling onto his legs, and focuses on keeping the pressure firm and constant. It's just a waiting game, for either his kid to wake up or for Recovery Girl to arrive. Lucky him.

Izuku comes around five minutes later, eyes still cloudy, to see his Dad's face hovering above him, hands somewhere out of sight, a worried pinch to his brows. Distantly, there's the sound of low chattering, but it doesn't really register past the pain and confusion. And the need for sass.

"Aw, is Eraserdad worried about a lil' vigilante? How sweeeeet," he coos loudly, sounding positively drunk. Eh, probably the head injury.

"Kid, you got knocked out-"

"No shit-"

"-in class." Oh fuck. 

"You said it," the man snorts. Whoops, must be speaking aloud. Hope nobody heard that and- oof, wow, his head really stings.

"That'll be an understatement, judging by the blood that's busy staining my jumpsuit, I thought we agreed to stop doing this?" And Aizawa's words are snarky, positively upbeat, but his tone is carefully blank. Izuku hates it.

"What? Me bleeding out on you? Forever and always Eraserdad, you're stuck with me now. Don't think I won't burn the receipt."

"I didn't pick you up from the shops you idiot brat." Ah, good, Izuku hazily smiles to himself, because that so-incredibly-done-with-your-shit tone is what he was waiting for.

"Shops, ssstreets, rooftops, 's all the ssssame." And Izuku is slurring again, because the world is spinning which is really not fun, and oops- now everything's getting louder which is also not good because did he mention that his head hurts? And ooh, darkness, that would be nice right about now-

"Fuck's sake kid-" It's too late; Izuku is already passing back out.

"Aizawa-sensei, Recovery Girl's here!" Someone calls - Kaminari? - and the man nods distractedly, very relieved, but keeps his focus on applying pressure to the gash on the crown of his kid's head. Because maybe they've just been bantering like usual, and it's eased some of his concerns like it always does, but the sight of blood matting his son's green curls is never going to be a pleasant one.

An hour later, they're all back in the classroom for cooldown and some revision, when the classroom door abruptly shunts open.

"Dadzawa!" a familiar voice cries, and suddenly a blur of green and black is darting into the room and limpets straight onto Aizawa's back, who doesn't even flinch, hands automatically coming up to support the legs of the mysterious figure- Oh. It's Izuku.

"Kid, you're meant to be with Recovery Girl." And damn, Sensei sounds so incredibly done. There are sniggers throughout the classroom. They only increase as Izuku pouts, hooking his chin over the man's shoulder, clever fingers delving into the capture weapon to pull out a juice pack. He sucks half of it up in about half a second, then nudges the straw at his Dad's face until the hero gives in and drinks the rest of it even faster. Kami, they really are father and son.

"Thanks Dad. Hey, you teaching? Soooooorry! Ooh, look, look, it's Toshi and Shou!" And then the greenette is off again, wriggling easily out of the man's grasp and bounding across the classroom towards his two best friends, grin wide for all that his pace is unsteady. Is he drunk...?

"For crying out loud - Izuku, either settle down at your desk, or go back to Recovery Girl. You know she had to give you the stronger painkillers this time, you're clearly half-high on them."

"But Daaaaaad," Izuku whines, that adorable pout back in full force, even as the teen is carding his hands through two-tone hair, then begins to twist a few little braids into it, muttering something about 'why isn't it turning pink? I'm mixing red and white...'. Shinsou snorts loudly, hearing that. Aizawa only sighs.

"But what? You're disturbing the lesson."

"Aw, I thought you loved me? Do you not love me anymore?"

And dammit the brat is actually getting teary-eyed, and every single member of the class, Bakugou and Kouda included, is glaring at their teacher.

"I said until I die kid; I meant it. Now come on, Todoroki can take you to Recovery Girl, and you can take a nap." His tone is stern, hand already in his capture weapon. Izuku, however, is suitably unimpressed by that, or perhaps blessedly unaware,

"Nooo, that's no fun!"

"It's logical."

"A logical ruse?" comes the hopeful question. As though Aizawa wouldn't be encouraging sleep at every available moment.

"Kid, Recovery Girl."

Speak of the devil and he shall come - or in this case the saint - a distinctly unimpressed Recovery Girl strides into the room, cane waving rather menacingly before she takes in the sight before her and huffs out a long-suffering breath.

“He’s high on painkillers.” Her mild comment is deceptive.

“You don’t say,” Aizawa mutters, bitter as a curse. But then Izuku stops playing with Todoroki’s hair, apparently bored already, and is on the move again. Yet he’s not headed to the door or even the vent cover in the ceiling- Fuck. Aizawa grunts, leaping forwards, capture weapon reaching ahead but he’s too late and Izuku has already rattled the window open and thrown himself out. Of course, he easily catches himself on a tree halfway down, swinging from a few branches to slow his momentum, until he hits the ground running - literally - and darts off in a blur of black and green.

“Bloody problem child. Chiyo-san, Midnight's here somewhere, get her to cover their revision,” he calls over his shoulder as he follows in his son's figurative footsteps and leaps easily out of the window, one curl of his capture weapon closing the exit behind him. 

He has an idiot kid to retrieve.

'Cause my brain wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it, have a snapshot of what would happen if Aizawa got injured on patrol and was in the infirmary on some strong painkillers the next day. (Izuku refused to leave him and is in there with him, but poor baby is tired, so Aizawa may or may not have had the opportunity to escape and access a printer...)

Halfway through one of Mic's enthusiastic English lectures, the door to 1-A's classroom slides open to admit a stumbling Aizawa-sensei.

"Zasssshi, look'it, look'it, 's my kid! M'son!" he rasps out, shoving some papers in the blond's face. To his credit, Hizashi only blinks once, smirks, and backs up a step to properly look at the papers.

Which are all printed out photos. Of Izuku. Izuku with the cats, Kidilante on his Dad's back, Izuku in a stolen Eraserhead jumpsuit, Izuku sleeping curled up against the man's shoulder... Just Izuku being Aizawa's son. And here Aizawa is, having apparently printed them all off somehow, and he is now determinedly making the Voice hero examine each and every one.

"They're rockin' photos Shouta, you know I think baby broccoli's adorable, but don't you think you should go back to the infirmary?" the blond tries.

"But... But then I can' show you m'kid!" And the underground hero is, genuinely, pouting at his friend, although the expression is quite... odd, when combined with the eyebags and stubble.

"Still Shouta-" For once in his life, Hizashi tries to be the voice of reason and so, of course, Aizawa is the one who decides that he should utterly abandon logic.

Spinning on his heel, nearly falling, but catching himself with something resembling his usual grace, the class' homeroom teacher offers them all a Cheshire smile that's slightly softer and more lopsided than usual, then fans out the pieces of paper, only a few hidden behind others.

"My kid!" He crows, gleeful. 

By now, most of the students are laughing, and several have stood up to come and get a proper look at the A4 sheets being proudly flaunted by the man. Little groups spring up as they take the pictures and coo over them, chattering to each other about the adorableness, the sweetness, the sheer fluffy goodness of Izuku with cats and so on, Aizawa standing over them all with folded arms and an approving nod, apparently feeling very validated over forcing others to acknowledge that his son is the best thing on this planet or so help him...  Hitoshi and Shouto are running damage control, having quickly swooped in to claim any pictures they can spot of Izuku in his vigilante get-up, or what they assume it to be, which is luckily only three, but still. They're busy fending off Mina when the classroom door slams open.

"Dad-! Oh, thank fuck. You, hobo shithead, are meant to be in your fucking bed, not wandering off! And what- Oh holy shit, you did not, you are literally a child on pain meds, Dadzawa,  why didn't I handcuff you in there when I had the chance, fucking hell, everyone-"

"Kid!" And then Izuku is staggering under the full weight of his Dad who has draped himself over his son from behind, clutching him close and burying his face in green curls, the man's longer hair practically a wig for the teen as Aizawa rocks them both slightly from side to side. Izuku almost smiles.

"For fuck's sake- right. All of you, give those to me right now. Every single one."  Nobody even hesitates to obey Izuku because right now, he is terrifying, eyes positively glowing, a snarl on his face, arms folded menacingly. His short stature, cute face and currently-being-cuddled-to-death status affect nothing about that. If anything, they make him more intimidating. Because somebody that adorable should not be able to sound so deadly.

And so, within approximately a minute and a half of entering the room, Izuku has been handed back all of the photos, including those from Shouto and Hitoshi, has sent an exasperated frown to Hizashi with a,

"Can you believe this idiot, Auntie Zashi?" thrown over his shoulder, which may or may not cause another outcry from the class, and then he leaves, towing his Dad along easily.

Honestly, the hero seems to be just as happy to actually be with his son as he was to be shoving pictures of him in people's faces.

Chapter Text

The next day, Aizawa smirks at Izuku as the brat laces up his black high-tops in the genkan, and passes along an extra knife. And then a second. Sue him, letting the kid leave by himself has the pro's instincts screaming because his son gets hurt way too often; even knowing that Izuku probably has around twelve blades on him right now isn't enough to still his furious heart. Yet he refuses to ruin his kid's afternoon with his worries. Well, not beyond reason.

"You got your GPS on?"

"Yes Dadzawa," Izuku replies, clearly resisting the urge to roll his eyes because he knows exactly why the man is worrying, and they both know better than to call each other out on it.

"Right. Have fun and all that shit," the underground hero grumbles. Izuku beams, scrambling to his feet, and leans into the hair ruffle that Aizawa offers. Then, unable to help himself, the man simply pulls Izuku's head against his chest, hand still buried in green curls, and drops the briefest of kisses into them.

"I'll be home for dinner." The words are muffled in Aizawa's jumper, that may or may not feature several bright purple cats, but he hears his kid and appreciates it all the same.

"Right. Send pictures of the cats."

"Will do Dad," Izuku reassures, reaching up to pat at the man's cheek before he flies out the door. He's got friends to meet after all.

The staff at this cat café are more than familiar with Izuku, Hitoshi and Shouto by now. So are the cats. Hence, upon paying for two hours, Izuku immediately being swarmed by several familiar furballs. Giggling, the teen crouches down, encourages a solid five of them to drape themselves over his shoulders, curling up in his hood and hair, and then carefully stands back up, glancing through the room to see Hitoshi and Shouto staring at him, phones raised as they flush and smile at him. Izuku blushes at their attention in turn,

"You two!" He admonishes, rather too embarrassed to sound particularly threatening.

"Yes, green bean?" Hitoshi asks, sly as a fox, ending whatever recording he was taking with a flourish. Shouto, far less flamboyant about it, also tucks his phone away, after fiddling for a moment or two. Neither of them seem inclined to apologise though.

"Mrk," Izuku gets out, unintelligible as he pads over to them and carefully crouches, then settles down properly, pout fading into a smile as his friends' legs shift to press either side of his thighs and yet more cats gather in the cradle of his crossed legs. They've got an hour until any more of their friends arrive, having deliberately scheduled things so they'd have some time together first.

And they intend to make the most of it.

Ultimately, they spend the hour quietly, content in the company of each other and the two dozen cats that have migrated to them. They don't talk a lot, quite happy just being. The lead-up to their exams is intense to say the least, so being able to cuddle some cats, legs pressed together, in the quiet warmth of their café is an opportunity too wonderful to be missed, ignoring their responsibilities for a while, recharging. It's wonderful.

It can't last forever though and, at exactly three o'clock, the café door opens to admit Iida, who is talking and chopping his arms at Yaomomo, presumably having caught the same train from the wealthier parts of town. The pair spot the three of their friends already surrounded by cats and wave, but have to go and pay first, soon coming over to join them. Fortunately, Iida is quick to tone down his arm chopping, though judging by the twitching of his fingers it's no easy task, and the new arrivals settle down, smiling perhaps a little indulgently at Izuku getting up to wriggle in between Hitoshi and Shouto, despite there being plenty of space for all of them. It's cute.

"Good afternoon! I trust you have all been well since yesterday, yourself very much included Izuku-kun! That head wound looked quite unpleasant, although we couldn't hear Sensei talking to you over the general hubbub." Already there is a tuxedo - Bow - circling on Iida's lap as he's sat in seiza, and both a ginger tabby - Zest - and a black cat - Kiki- draping themselves against Yaoyorozu, undisturbed by the still slightly-loud tone.

"I'm fine n-now thanks. W-wonders of Recovery G-girl."

"Ah, but of course!"

"We're glad," Yaomomo adds, tone and smile soft, and Izuku beams at her. The girl is intelligent and kind, very properly spoken, and her calm demeanour is always a good balance to Iida's enthusiastic energy. Izuku appreciates it. Appreciates them. Friends are still such a foreign thing sometimes, novel, and it has certainly been an adjustment for him. Not an unpleasant one though. Just... different.

Their dynamic isn't anything like what he's had with Tsuka, Dadzawa and other officers like Sansa that know him well; his class-friends are built up on shared school experiences, mainly good, some bad, on idle chatter and lunchtimes. It isn't based on protectiveness and banter, late nights and snack breaks on rooftops under starlight, bloodshed and fighting hard to trust each other like they do now. And okay, maybe these friendships don't mean quite as much as what he has with Dadzawa, but they mean a hell of a lot all the same, and Izuku wouldn't trade them for the world, particularly not Toshi and Shou... Huh, he really wouldn't.

That thought has Izuku burrowing even further into Shou and Toshi's sides, clutching their arms close, uncaring that they can't pet the cats with said arms because they're his now, thank you very much.

The five fall into the unsurprising conversation topic of revision and what they're having problems with, waving at Uraraka and Tsuyu when they arrive only a minute or two later. And apparently find their bills for the hour already paid.

"Yaomomo, Iida, you didn't need to do that!" The brunette scolds, although she's sporting a flush that seems as pleased as it is embarrassed.

"But Uraraka, we wanted to. It's no trouble, really; consider it thanks for giving me that ginger chapstick the other day."

"Yaomomo, a chapstick is hardly the same as an hour at a cat café," Uraraka points out, firm but a tad pouty.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." And the whole group has to laugh at that, or at least smile, so Uraraka relents, and Tsuyu offers a short thank you herself, her usual kero punctuating the words.

With that, they're all settled in for an hour of relaxation together. They manage to pull the conversation from revision to a more de-stressing discussion of pop culture and then, of course, cats. Yaomomo, Shouto and Izuku get an education in films, music groups and various TV shows or comics, all things they'd missed out on for various reasons. But then Izuku turns the tables, Hitoshi as his back-up, with a wealth of meme and vines knowledge, Iida chipping in occasionally thanks to his brother's influence, apparently. That unexpected knowledge at least elicits some extra laughter. Eventually though, they come back round to cats, the trio detailing various escapades and antics of the café cats, able to point out and name all of them, and by the time they've told the others about that one time that Orange Peel had sat on Hitoshi's face for a solid twenty minutes and refused to get off, their hour is up and there are trains to catch, with smiles and promises of seeing each other at school tomorrow.

Later that evening, with Aizawa dragging odds and ends out of the fridge for dinner ingredients whilst Izuku is sat on the sofa, a quizzing app open on his laptop, the man asks,

"You feeling alright with everything so far kiddo? UA's exam season is an intense one, no matter how intelligent you are, and it's coming up quick now."

"Oh thanks for that choice of wording Dadzawa." And yeh, okay, Aizawa has to wince at that, because he probably could have phrased it with less sense of impending doom. But he'd meant what he said.

"Humour me all the same?"  Izuku huffs quietly in immediate reply, leaning his head over the back of the sofa to stare deadpan at the man,

"'S alright, I think. I pretty much know it all, it's just technique and shit now."

"Good to hear kid," Aizawa offers, snorting at the middle finger that gets flashed at him.

The man won't say it out loud at risk of sounding like a sap, but this kind of domesticity, snarky or not, has his chest warmed right through, the contentment seeping right down to his aching bones. The pro has wanted to have his Kidilante as part of his daily life, a part of his home, for years, and to be enjoying such simple familial interactions - no blood, no villains, no other students - is a true kind of happiness that Aizawa never thought he'd get to experience. He's glad he can now.

The following Tuesday lunchtime, with rain pouring outside, sees Hitoshi and Shouto settling down in an abandoned classroom, waiting for Izuku to join them.

And so of course it's natural for their conversation to turn to their cryptid cinnamon roll. Yet only a minute or two in, Hitoshi freezes in place, hands stilling mid-gesticulation. Then he bursts to his feet, leaning towards his heterochromatic friend,

"Holy shit Shouto, we both love him, don't we? Like really love him. This isn't some random crush or anything: we love him." Hitoshi's eyes widen with every repetition of his own words, hands trembling in something like anticipation and nervous joy.

"Of course. And each other too." For once the other boy doesn't sound sombre and serious, although he is still sincere and blunt. Best of all, Hitoshi knows that he's right. They do love each other, and they both love Izuku.

They fucking love each other!

High on the burning warmth that's surging through his chest, Hitoshi can't help but lean forward, inching closer every half-moment, until he's breathing the same air as Shouto, staring into those beautiful eyes, only ever this bright for him and Izuku.

"Can I...?" he lets himself trail off as Shouto's stunning eyes flutter closed and they're meeting in the middle, lips brushing like butterflies' wings, then becoming more firm, more insistent, as they lean further into each other and relish in the shared sensation. The shared lov-

A loud thud shocks them apart, both whipping to face the noise. Stood in the now-open doorway is Izuku, bag fallen to the floor. And they would be utterly delighted to see him, but that's impossible with the look on the greenette's face. Izuku looks distraught. Destroyed. His teary eyes are perhaps the most vulnerable they've ever seen, outside of when Aizawa-sensei got so awfully hurt by the Nomu. And there's something about his slack expression and tremulous limbs that just scream heartbreak. The very sight makes their own hearts shatter inside their chests, so bright and full only seconds ago.

"Green bea-" Hitoshi starts, but before he or Shouto can move, Izuku is gone. And they are left staring at any empty doorway. What have they done?

Izuku is running and running and all he knows is that he hurts, he hurts so badly and nothing can fix this splintering and spalling of his heart and soul. But even if he can't fix it, his Dadzawa will keep him safe. Surely he will. He always has before.

So Izuku's running and he's hurting and he needs his Dad so, so badly. Then he sees a flash of black and the trailing end of something white and scarf-like, and Izuku is dashing around the corner and throwing himself at his Dad, limpeting on with a desperation he hasn't had in weeks, not since the night of Stain, burying his burning face and already-pouring tears in the rough, familiar fabric of the capture weapon, too wrapped up in his pain to even register how the pro hero staggers under his sudden weight, frantic hands coming to hold him and stroke through his hair, an urgent, reassuring voice attempting to coax him out of his sobs and into coherency. But Izuku isn't listening. He can only cling to his Dad and cry his broken heart out.

Toshi and Shou are together. They won't want or need him. He should have known he had been too greedy, too fortunate. Who was he, stupid, worthless Deku, to think he deserved friends and possibly more? Let alone two of them? And people who might love him back? Kami, he'd been so fucking blind. He should have known and now they're going to leave him and he'll be alone again and it hurts. Why didn't-

Aizawa is freaking the fuck out, and that is an understatement. He'd been walking through the school corridors, just debating where he could next take a nap, his sleeping bag in his arms, when there was the sound of running feet. Continuing to head to the faculty office, he had made sure to be towards the side of the corridor. He didn't want to get mown down by some idiot stude- But then he nearly falls, dropping his sleeping bag, as a body throws itself at his back and clings. The fu- Oh, it's his kid. No worries.

Except, fully registering his kid's presence, there's the realisation that the back of his neck is already wet and he can both hear and feel sobs wracking through his kid's body. Holy shit-

"Kid, the fuck? Kiddo, I need you to try and talk to me, are you okay? Izuku, what can I do? I need you to breathe for me. Kid- Kid! Come on Izuku, try and calm down some, what is it? Are you hurt? Kiddo, breathe, please, you're scaring the shit out of me- Brat, come on-" He keeps on talking, reaching back awkwardly to try and soothe him, unable to stop, even as the teen doesn't seem to react. If anything, he seems to be sobbing harder by the second and the way that his chest is heaving against Aizawa's back is all too similar to a panic attack.

Unsure quite where to go from here, Aizawa comes to the conclusion that, well, he's got to do something, so he sets off at a light jog towards the faculty room, not even bothering to try and lean down and pick up his sleeping bag. He can send Nemuri to get it later. Or Hizashi. Whatever. Someone. Right now he needs to get his kid off his back - literally, that is - and in a position to actually be able to talk him down from whatever shit is happening right now. 

At his quicker pace, it only takes a minute to reach the faculty room and he bursts in, hurrying over to his usual sofa, already speaking,

"Zashi, help me get the kid off so I can actually help him. Everyone else, either shut the fuck up or get the fuck out. Nemuri, my sleeping bag is somewhere near the tech rooms - fetch it."

Nobody questions his orders - most heroes, in a sudden situation, know better than to waste time hesitating or doubting each other - and the room is instantly nigh-on silent. Well, except from Izuku's continued heart-rending sobs, quiet as they are, muffled further in his capture scarf.

"Hizashi, transfer my capture weapon to his neck first, it should help." The blond does so, looking close to his own tears at the sound of the utterly distraught teenager, even as takes the front of the scarf and lifts it over the duos' heads, settling it carefully around the problem child's shoulders. Everyone else watches on, silent. It would be impossible to look away from Dadzawa and his incredibly upset child. From any child so visibly and audibly hurting.

"What else can I...?" Aizawa shoots a 'wait' look at his best friend, and turns his head as far round as he can, hefting his kid up a little, hands under his legs, trying to loosen his death grip some,

"Hey kiddo, reckon you could let go for a second? I could do with being able to see you, you know? You'll just have to deal with my ugly mug, I'm afraid." But even the snark that would initially elicit a snort-laugh, no matter how upset his brat is, doesn't seem to be working. Kami, what can he do? Perhaps being stern...?

"Izuku - get off." And fuck, he should have known better than to try the strict approach, because the kid lets out a single wail, possibly the loudest he's ever been outside of a nightmare or fight, and only sobs harder.

"Hush kiddo, I'm sorry brat - you know it's fine, we're fine, I promise. I just wanna see you. Come on Izuku, please." If Aizawa hadn't been hyper-focused on his kid, he would have taken offence at the various incredulous glances exchanged between his colleagues for his pleading tone. But as it is, he's too busy panicking over the teenager's panic. What a fucking pair they make.

"Zashi, we're gonna have to pry him off. Just- fucking hell- just try not to hurt him. I don't think he's injured, but-" he cuts himself off before he can sound too upset himself, gesturing hopelessly. For once, the taller hero doesn't protest his own capabilities, simply nodding before reaching for Izuku and starting to grapple with the teenager.

"Just get him on my front, at least then I'll be able to fucking hold-" Aizawa interrupts himself pre-emptively again, doing his best to loosen his kid's arms from around his neck, to make it easier for Hizashi to twist the brat around his body. It takes long enough that Nemuri has returned, silently depositing his sleeping bag on the arm of the sofa that they're still stood next to before retreating a few metres, watching with intelligent eyes. The moment her friend gives the signal, she'll knock the kid out. Because, judging by his ever-rapid breathing, he's quickly working up into panic attack territory.

But then, finally, they manage to work Izuku around, still limpeted onto Aizawa, but this time to his front, and there's no hesitation before the pro is wrapping firm arms around the teenager, pressing him just as close as the kid is clinging, relieved to be able to murmur directly into his ear and card a hand through his hair. And so, even as he sinks backwards into the sofa, glad to finally sit down, he is talking the kid through it, allowing his hair to envelop them both in a curtain of protective darkness,

"Hey Izuku, can you feel me breathing against you? I'm right here, with you, and we're both safe. So I want you to try and match my breathing, can you do that? Please kiddo, you need to do this. I'm here, breathe with me, that's it, come on-" Aizawa loses all track of time and the people around him as he slowly, oh so slowly, works his kid down from the sobs and semi-panic attack, into something still clearly distressed, but at least partially coherent.

"There you go, good job brat. Had me shitting myself for a hot minute there." And finally, the snark prompts Izuku to peek up from where his face is still buried in the capture weapon, bloodshot green eyes still filmy and half-uncomprehending, tear tracks smeared across red cheeks and pale scars. His freckles almost blend into the darker skin tone.

"Hey there kid. Fancy seeing you here." And there's something then, close to amusement but too tired and melancholy to quite count. Resisting the urge to sigh, Aizawa bumps his chin against the brat's forehead affectionately. His hands are still pre-occupied with practically cradling the teen after all.

"So what happened kiddo? You can sign it if it's easier." But the problem child only shakes his head, hiding back away in the capture weapon.

"Okay. It can wait. But you're definitely not injured, right?" He receives no reply,
"Right?"  And thank Kami, Izuku shakes his head again. Aizawa could not deal with physical injuries on top of whatever the emotional wounds are right now.

"Well, that's a start. Want to stay here for a bit?" Izuku, yet again, resorts to simply nodding. Well, it's better than being unresponsive, so Aizawa will take it. Doesn't stop him worrying though.

Speaking of worrying, the rest of the staff in the room are still watching on as Aizawa sags back into the sofa cushions completely, giving the room a once-over. He wants to snarl and snap at them for staring, but it's only natural given the weird-as-fuck circumstances. Not to mention that it would probably both alarm and embarrass Izuku, and he's not having that. So instead, he makes do with glaring viciously over the top of his kid's head, until all bar his own two best friends look away and busy themselves. In contrast, Hizashi and Nemuri just stand a couple of metres back and meet his gaze unflinchingly.

After a few seconds, Zashi starts to sign,

'Do you want us to get either of you anything? Or anyone?'  Knowing who Hizashi is referring to, Aizawa simply shakes his head. No need to overcomplicate things with two extra teenagers, particularly when classes start back up in- fuck, in ten minutes. He's meant to be teaching his hell class Hero Ethics and Laws. Well shit. Nedzu will just have to cover for him.

Seeing his annoyed gaze, now focused on the clock, Zashi returns to signing,

'You've got a class - his?'   When Aizawa nods slightly, he goes on,

'Do you want All Mig-' He's already glaring viciously, so the blond changes tact,
'-Nedzu to cover it?'    This time receiving an affirmative response, Hizashi leaves to organise just that. Nemuri takes over now,

'Are the lesson plans on your desk? Okay, that's easy. Anything else Nedzu will need to know?' Aizawa lifts a sceptical eyebrow, looking definitively down at the still-shaking mass of problem child in his lap.

'Well obviously Shouta - we weren't not going to tell him about the baby broccoli. Other than that?'  When he shakes his head at her, she nods, eyes unusually soft and worried, before offering him a grin and flouncing away to grab the papers from his desk and follow after Hizashi. Well, at least that was the rest of the class sorted. Now he just had to look after his personal brat.

What the fuck had happened to his kid?

Chapter Text

"Can I...?" Hitoshi lets himself trail off as Shouto's stunning eyes flutter closed and they're meeting in the middle, lips brushing like butterflies' wings, then becoming more firm, more insistent, as they lean further into each other and relish in the shared sensation. The shared lov-

A loud thud shocks them apart, both whipping to face the noise. Stood in the now-open doorway is Izuku, bag fallen to the floor. And they would be utterly delighted to see him, but that's impossible with the look on the greenette's face. Izuku looks distraught. Destroyed. His teary eyes are perhaps the most vulnerable they've ever seen, outside of when Aizawa-sensei got so awfully hurt by the Nomu. And there's something about his slack expression and tremulous limbs that just scream heartbreak. The very sight makes their own hearts shatter inside their chests, so bright and full only seconds ago.

"Green bea-" Hitoshi starts, but before he or Shouto can move, Izuku is gone. And they are left staring at any empty doorway. What have they done?

In their shock, they stand there for far too long. But then Shouto whimpers, quiet and pained, and Hitoshi reaches to grab his hand, squeezing for a moment before pulling him up.

"We've gotta go after him Peppermint. We- he-"  Now it's the heterochromatic boy's turn to be the calm one,

"Breathe, Hito. He'll probably have gone to Sensei, or if not then Sensei will know where to find him. We can apologise, explain." Hitoshi pauses, takes a deep breath and squeezes Shouto's hand,

"Yeh- Yeh, no, okay, let's go to the staff room."

And with that, they're off. They grab their bags and Izuku's, left at the door, and run, still hand in hand, towards the faculty room. Surely, if they can just get to Izuku, then they can explain. They can tell him that they love him, love each other, and reassure him that he doesn't need to look so sad, so heartbroken, that they're both here for him, no matter what. Now if only they could find him.

A few corridors along, they instead come across Midnight picking up Aizawa-sensei's sleeping bag from the floor and shaking it out. They wouldn't pause, wouldn't stop, but she turns to them, sees Izuku's bag in their hands, and they know to stop running.

"What are you boys up to?"

"I- We- Midnight-sensei, Izuku-"

"Sensei, we messed up. We need to explain to Izu that we love him too." And that bluntness has Hitoshi blushing, but he nods along all the same.

Midnight, unlike her usual self, doesn't grin or leer at them, clutching Aizawa's sleeping bag closer to her chest with the slightest of frowns.

"...Baby broccoli is with Shouta right now. And as much as I want to shove you two in there, he's going to need some time to calm down first. I don't know if ba- Izuku will be in for last period, but probably not," she pauses again here, takes in their blatant upset,

"I'm sure you didn't mean to hurt him, but the bottom line is, you have. Izuku's going to need some time first, alright? I'll talk to Shouta after school, let him know that it was unintentional and that you'll want to explain things to Izuku yourselves, once he's calm again. But for now, go to class, alright? Izuku will need notes for what he's missed."

And despite their reluctance, their worry, that last line clinches it. Unintentional or not, they've hurt their third, and right now, he probably needs his Dad more than he needs them, at least if he's panicking. It's an unpleasant thought, an awful thought, but there's not much they can do about it right now.

So, they'll go to class. They'll sit there and they'll worry themselves stupid, but for Izuku's sake they'll take notes and give him time. Midnight has promised them that she'll talk to Aizawa-sensei, so hopefully he'll give them a chance to explain.

Kami knows what they'll do if he won't...

Once all of the other teachers have left for their lessons and any without them have made themselves scarce anyway, Izuku eventually surfaces from the capture weapon and speaks with a hoarse voice,

"...Dad?"

"Mm?"

"I... I think I like someone."

"Okay?" Aizawa replies, surprised at the seemingly random statement, then realises that he probably sounded a bit too hesitant and goes on,
"That's fine kiddo. You can tell me more if you want to, but you don't have to."

"What if... even if it's more than one person?" Whelp, if he didn't already have an inkling as to who it might be, he certainly did now. 

"Kid, that's still fine. Polyamory's a thing, if that's what you're after, and regardless, they're your feelings. That makes them valid."

"But it's wrong, isn't it? And they wouldn't like someone like me anyway, even if they didn't already have each other. And then the whole class will hate me, just like it's always been, and I'll be alone again! They'll hate me Dad!"

"Izuku..." Aizawa pauses to gather his thoughts because fuck, if that wasn't heart-breaking to hear his kid say.

"Listen to me kiddo," he presses on, bringing his hand up to gently tilt Izuku's face back until Aizawa can look at him properly, meet his teary gaze and allow his conviction, his care, to bleed through the eye contact, seeping in between them, stroking his thumb comfortingly back and forth over a scarred cheekbone,

"You are a kind, strong, beautiful kid. There is no 'someone like you' and, no, you're not perfect, but holy shit kid you come pretty damn close, do you hear me? These people you like are bound to see that. If they don't, it's their loss and it will hurt, but that hurt will fade with time, with new people. I'm not saying you're wrong to like them either way, because I suspect that they already like you very much, if this is who I'm expecting, but I am saying that whilst it might not be fun, it might not be bad either. And whether or not they like you back, that absolutely would not be your fault, or your lack of something, understood? It will simply be that their feelings don't line up with your own. You are worth every bit as much as anyone else - well, more in my opinion but I suppose I'm biased - and you are just as likeable, okay kiddo?"

And fuck, he had rambled, hadn't he? Did that even make sense? But he hadn't lied - he had sincerely meant every word with every fibre of his being because his kid practically was perfect, okay? Fight him.

"B-but Dad..."

"But what kiddo?" he prompts, keeping his voice soft. He wants to dismiss it, because there are no 'but's in his mind, yet there clearly are in the kid's head, so he should probably deal with them rather than brush them off.

"I'm... I'm just me. I'm scarred, my hair's horrific, I'm useless, I'm quirkless, I can barely speak, I always look like a zombie, I'm pathetically traumatised. I'm just me," he reiterates and by Kami Aizawa doesn't know how to feel. He knows Izuku has self-esteem issues, he knows that his kid has a painfully low opinion of himself that's only recently begun to improve, but hearing it all laid out like this, spoken from his son's own mouth... It does things in his chest that are far worse than being stabbed.

"Izuku, kiddo- please, please listen to me when I say this - none of that is your fault, and not all of it is true to begin with. You are you and it is you that I love, that I spent years wanting to adopt." He pauses for a fraction of a moment, confirming that Izuku is listening, taking in his truths,

"It's you who is Quirkless and yet so fucking strong, despite outsider's expectations. It's you who has saved hundreds of lives from hundreds, thousands, of crimes. You have scars that show you suffered, yet are still here fighting. You have eyebags and messy hair and trauma because you have lived. You have top grades, friends that adore you, a promising career path, a pseudo-family in your class and teachers, you have me. Got it? And no matter what happens kiddo, no matter who you love or who loves you, no matter if you have scars or trauma or no quirk, you will always have me. I'm your Dad now. I will be here until I die, and I will do whatever I can to stop that from happening for as long as possible, just so I can stay by your side, give you a home to come back to, do you understand kid? You are worth so much to so many people Izuku, and you may forget that, but I won't. None of us will. I love you. We all love you. Okay kiddo?" And fuck, his voice broke on that, but he can't help it as he buries his face in Izuku's curls, holding him closer again, ignoring the burn of his eyes as he cries onto his kid's head.

Having dry eyes normally physically stops him crying, but at other times... Sometimes it's just too much. 

For a long while, they huddle together on that sofa, silent but for the occasional hitched breath. The greenette has his face firmly buried in the crook of Aizawa's neck, the skin there sticky with drying salt, the capture weapon around Izuku's shoulders and being clutched in one hand whilst the other hand, trembling, is twisted into his Dad's top. Aizawa, for his part, is still resting his cheek on top of his kid's head and his neck is going to hate him later, but fuck it. Meanwhile, one arm is cradling the teen close, keeping them plastered together, the other hand is soothing slow circles across Izuku's upper back, carefully timing the movement with his own inhales and exhales, maintaining a steady rhythm that surrounds the kid to keep him firmly away from panic attack territory. That was the last thing they needed.

And, just as Izuku's breathing is slowing into sleep, Aizawa murmurs once again,

"Love you kiddo," and is glad to feel the beginnings of a drowsy smile stretching against his collarbone.

A while later, after the final bell for the day has rung out, several of the teachers turn back up, all peering cautiously around the door before entering on quiet feet, taking in the softly-snoring greenette curled up against his half-dozing Dad and deeming it safe. Nemuri turns up pretty quickly and, standing a few metres away, waves her phone at Aizawa until he looks up, fully awake. Getting the idea, but wondering why on earth she isn't just signing whatever it is, Aizawa manages to repurpose one hand for digging his phone out, making sure any vibration or sound alerts are turned off, then gestures with it impatiently. Honestly, sign is so much easier...

When the initial texts come through, Aizawa is abruptly very glad Nemuri decided to message him rather than sign. Most heroes understand at least rudimentary JSL, the rest of the faculty included, and his kid's private matters are not something he would want them seeing. Reading. Hearing? Whatever. And- fuck, fuck, fuck, he should have known something like this would happen...

Anti-NoonMadness: [Before you flip, let me explain the whole thing - that I'm aware of at least, alright Shou?]

                              : [Baby Broccoli's friends - Todoroki and Shinsou that is - did something. Made a mistake. Reading between the lines, sounds like they confessed to each other before Izuku got there, and Baby walked in on them, misunderstood, and ran to you. They told me they 'need to tell him they love him too', so Baby's not getting rejected or left out, it was just bad timing.]

                              : [You'd better not kill them for it Shouta.]

                              : [It wasn't their fault. Or at least not their intention. They're all only kids, no matter what they might have gone through.]

                              : [They're going to mess up.]

For a long few minutes, Aizawa has to gradually push down his incandescent fury, letting the heat in his chest spread and dissipate until he can think past it. See through it.

Quirk? Sleep? Whomsts?: [I know. I'm pissed but I know.]

                                     : [Fuck, I knew something was bound to go wrong sooner or later. I should've talked to him.]

                                     : [He didn't know polyamory was a thing Nem.]

                                     : [He thought he was wrong or broken or something for it. That they'd hate him.]

                                     : [I know that shit and it hurts. I let my kid believe that.]

Anti-NoonMadness: [No!]

                              : [Shou, shut the fuck up. That isn't your fault. How were you to know?]

Quirk? Sleep? Whomsts?: [He's my son Nem.]

Anti-NoonMadness: [That doesn't suddenly make you aware of everything he's ever learnt or come across, idiot.]

                              : [Just worry about making sure that he knows *now*.]

Aizawa pauses, taking that in, seeing the logic in it, and tries to engrave it into his brain. Feeling guilty won't help Izuku, nor himself, which therefore makes it pointless. Kami, why are emotions so fucking illogical? It's a pain.

Quirk? Sleep? Whomsts?: [I guess.]

                                     : [Thanks Nem. And for bringing his bag.]

Anti-NoonMadness: [Course Shou. Look after the Baby for us.]

                              :  [If he needs any non-Dad advice, he can message or ring me. Same with Zashi, I bet.]

Quirk? Sleep? Whomsts?: [Right. Thanks again.]

Nemuri only grins at him, blows a kiss, and flounces off to her desk, dropping Izuku's bag off at Aizawa's station on the way.

They don't get home until quite late that night, having waited to leave until Izuku woke up naturally, and they grab a takeaway meal en route, Aizawa definitely not interested in cooking tonight. Izuku, unfortunately, is still quiet and Aizawa is torn. On one hand, he could just tell his kid not to worry, explain what Nemuri told him and doing so would be so very easy, knowing that he would be shortening his son's pain. But, it isn't really his place, surely? Izuku needs to talk to them himself, to be comfortable enough again that he feels ready and able to do so on his own terms. And yet in turn, would not telling him be a breach of Izuku's trust?

Kami, it would almost be better not to know.

Well, that's inaccurate too, he chides himself. It's better for Izuku that Aizawa knows about the situation as a whole, that he's in a position to best look out for his kid, even if it isn't as easy as not knowing would be. So, for now, he'll only talk about whatever Izuku brings up, and let the kid make his own decisions when he feels ready to make them. And in the meanwhile, he'll do what he can to comfort his son.

Of course, Aizawa hadn't been betting on a night full of bad dreams. Ones that have Izuku pacing, knives flickering through his fingers and the air until Aizawa physically drags him to the sofa, touch firm and insistent for all that the kid could have squirmed away if he'd truly wanted, and settles with Izuku tucked into his side, the cats draped around them and the TV on quietly, a documentary on whales, along with the cats' purring, offering the best background noise possible to keep Izuku calm and at least vaguely content.

It doesn't solve anything, not really, but it helps them both all the same. The physical comfort does wonders, unsurprisingly, and then the cats would occasionally do something funny, a blep-tongue or boop-paw or some funny sound, that would drag the tiniest of giggles from Izuku, and a responding soft expression from Aizawa.

But come morning, they're both still awake and quiet, exhausted. Izuku apologises at least five times even before their nutrient packet breakfast, Aizawa brushing all of them off. It's not like Izuku wanted to be distressed. And Aizawa certainly isn't going to judge or be angry over his son's emotions, let alone allow him to feel bad over said emotions, regardless of his own emotional... stuntedness, at times. Often. Well, pretty much whenever his kid isn't around. Or at least whenever there are people not his kid nearby... Regardless, Aizawa ruffles his hair, keeps him close and lets Izuku know that he never needs to apologise for having bad times or needing help, it's what the man is here for. He doesn't revel in it, but he certainly isn't going to not do it. It's his Kidilante after all.

"How you feeling about school today kiddo?"

"I-" Izuku pauses, falters, eyes darting up to meet the familiar darkness, warm and concerned,
'I guess. Exams start in less than two weeks, I don't really want to miss lessons.'

"Alright. Anything I can do for that?" Aizawa offers, voice low and soothing. If there's even the smallest thing he can do, there's nothing that's going to stop him.

'...I don't think so? I might hide in the vents? I- I don't want-'   He cuts himself off, fisting his trembling hands into the hem of his slightly too-long blazer sleeves, and Aizawa instinctively reaches out to clasp them, firmly sliding his own fingers under the fabric to loosen the tension, circling his thumbs over the protrusions of bone on Izuku's wrists, hating how they're still that little bit skinnier than they should be.

"Izuku, kid, avoiding your problems rarely solves them." And before Izuku can even open his mouth, Aizawa pushes on,
"But, if you need time and space to sort through other problems, related or not, first, then that's important too, understood? I'm not saying you have to talk to them first thing today, not if that's pushing yourself too hard. But just keep in mind that you're going to need - and want - to talk to them sooner or later. That all make sense?"

And even though the kid scowls faintly, clearly unhappy, Izuku does nod. Even better, he leans into his Dad's chest when Aizawa gently tugs him forwards. The man can't have messed up too badly then.

It still sits uneasily in Aizawa's stomach when Izuku waits in the vents until the last moment of homeroom to enter 1-A's classroom, dropping lightly from the ceiling just as the bell rings out. He must have been able to hear the concern over his whereabouts from the other students, their discussion of the trauma of having Nedzu as a teacher for even a single period and 'Mido spends Englishes with him, right? How's he still sane?' along with the couple of questions aimed at Todoroki and Shinsou for the dark bags - or worse-than-usual in Shinsou's case - under their eyes that they brush off with as few words as possible. The class as a whole is tense. It's not a nice feeling at all, everyone able to sense that dynamics are off balance and that one missing member has left a glaring empty space.

Aizawa's bad feeling stays leaden and uncomfortable all day, a heavy whirling in his guts when lunchtime sees Izuku huddling in the faculty room, not even on their usual sofa but rather stealing his Dad's sleeping bag and curling up against his legs under the man's desk, hiding in the warm little space. Aizawa, after a few short replies, mainly a single-tap yes or double-tap no against his leg, gets the hint and leaves Izuku to it. If he keeps a hand settled atop green curls all the same, then only they're to know. And luckily for Izuku, a Week A Wednesday lunch-time feeds straight into Heroics which, today, is with Aizawa himself, so the kid can get changed ten minutes before anyone else, and promptly starts parkouring in the gym before his classmates even arrive. His Dad, scowling faintly, watches on with eagle eyes, trying to make sure his Problem Child isn't being too reckless or unaware, relieved to find that whilst Izuku is clearly using it as an outlet, it doesn't seem to be a negative one. Thank Kami.

However, by Thursday night, when Izuku has avoided not only Todoroki and Shinsou, but also all of his other friends, for two days straight, Aizawa takes the initiative again. At this rate, his kid will only be isolating himself, and that just won't do.

"Kiddo, I’m not trying to push you, but have you thought more about talking to them? You know them better than I do, but I can tell they’re still going to care about you Izuku, and the sooner the three of you talk through everything, the sooner you'll all be back in a good place, one way or another. They're feeling miserable too."

And Aizawa genuinely hadn't intended to guilt trip Izuku, but judging by the awful look on his kid's face, that's exactly what he's just done. Shit. Right, okay.

"Izuku, kiddo, wait a second. Let me rephrase that, alright? ...I'm not saying that you're making them sad, I'm saying that being apart from you and the fact that you're hurting is what's upsetting them. Does that make sense?" For all that it takes a long minute, Izuku nods slowly, eyes glossy again.

'I'll try and-'  He stops himself, worries at his bottom lip for a moment, then offers his Dad the wobbliest of smiles,
"I- I guess I'll try s-speaking to th-them tomorrow?"

"Good on you kiddo."

With that settled, Aizawa shoves his capture weapon at his kid, then shoos him over to the sofa. They can eat dinner there, for a treat. Now he only has to hope that tomorrow will make things better. Not, Kami forbid, worse. He doesn't want to have to actually murder Shinsou and Todoroki after all, this time came close enough.

Chapter Text

Izuku is trembling. To be fair, it feels like he's spent nearly three days shaking constantly now, fighting against everything the snide voices in his head scream at him, in the tones of caretakers and Ka- Bakugou and his once-father, barely staying together with the security of his Dadzawa to ground him. And now he's promised to talk to his- well, his best friends. Who may or may not also be his crushes. Izuku had felt so greedy, so selfish, when he'd first seen them kissing and wanted to be stood in the middle, but Kami, he doesn't know what to feel now. Polyamory is... a thing, which on the surface is good. Brilliant. But it still doesn't mean that Izuku of all people deserves to love Toshi and Shou and have them love him back, as much as he might want to.

For all that his Dadzawa has tried to tell him differently, only part of Izuku has been convinced by it. The logical part of him has acknowledged his Dad's words, has thought them through and seen the truth there. But the rest of him, a mess of emotion and trauma and heart-over-head, is trying to drown that logic out in a dark miasma. It's heavy, suffocating and so, so confusing.

But now Izuku has his phone in his hand, Cadaver squished in the space between his legs and front, knees tucked up by his face, staring at the backlog of their little groupchat. 'Pastel Kitties Pretty Please'. It's a dumb name borne of too many hours in the cat café, and Shouto buying them all matching cat plushies in pastel pink, purple and green respectively and seeing it has a melancholy smile creeping unbidden across Izuku's face. The smile twists further at seeing that the last thing that had been sent in the early hours of Wednesday morning.

insomn-i-am: [Green bean, whenever you're ready to talk, we'll be here. we promise]

PrettyThermostat : [What Hito said, Izu. We're okay to wait, just look after yourself. Or let Sensei help at least.]

                           :  {deleted message}

                           : [Just, whenever you're ready.]

insomn-i-am: [we'll wait as long as you need. for anything you need Izuku]

Reading those messages viscerally hurts. Because how could he ever believe that people as kind as his Toshi and Shou, who have been beaten down themselves, time and time again, would ever leave him? Sure, Izuku doesn't really like himself, but he knows that his friends and family like him, and that's kind of enough. Oh, his Dad would disagree, but for now, it's got to be enough. For Shou and Toshi's sakes, if nothing else.

So Izuku gathers his courage and his words, and types a message out.

Sinnamon-roll: [Can you two come into school early tomorrow? I- ]

                      : [I'd like to talk to you. If it's okay.]

And it only takes a few seconds before they're both typing as well.

PrettyThermostat : [Of course it is Izu.]

insomn-i-am: [definitely Green bean]

                     : [where?]

Sinnamon-roll: [I guess at school? Uhm, maybe that classroom again?] 

Perhaps that isn't the best choice, but it's fairly out the way and they all know where it is, so it'll do. And it's only a two minute walk from their homeroom, so they'll have plenty of time, particularly with going in early in the first place. It's easy.

insomn-i-am: [that's fine. early?]

Sinnamon-roll: [Whatever works train-wise.]

insomn-i-am: [one gets in just before half seven for me]

PrettyThermostat: [I've got seven twenty-five. So maybe half seven then? Izu?]

Sinnamon-roll:  [That's alright.]

                      : [Thanks. Sorry.]

insomn-i-am: [don't be Green bean]

PrettyThermostat: [We don't mind. We're just glad you're ready to talk to us.]

                           : [You are ready though, aren't you? It's understandable if you aren't, not yet.]

insomn-i-am: [we do want to talk to you Izuku. but we can still wait]

And that offer, that consideration, is what finally clinches it for Izuku. His logic overtakes the negativity and he allows himself the smallest of smiles, buried in Cadaver's fur.

Sinnamon-roll: [I am. As much as I can be.]

                      : [Sorry I wasn't before.]

insomn-i-am:  [Green bean that isn't something you have to apologise for]

PrettyThermostat: [Hito's right. Never, Izu.]

Sinnamon-roll: [...Okay.]

He pauses another moment, hesitating, but then adds to it.

Sinnamon-roll: [Thank you both. So much.]

PrettyThermostat  : [You're more than welcome Izuku.]

insomn-i-am : [of course. always]

He hesitates a second time, wanting to add more, but utterly blank as to what. Eventually though, exhausted, he goes for the easy option. The safe one.

Sinnamon-roll: [Night then, I guess.]

PrettyThermostat : [Goodnight. Hope you have no nightmares.]

insomn-i-am : [nuh-night. may the cats cuddle you]

Sinnamon-roll: [You two too.]

Izuku abandons his phone to the side, wrapping steady fingers around his own ankles, holding his curled-up form, Cadaver still purring in the little gap. And when Dadzawa knocks on his door and peers round, he raises a single eyebrow, not invading the space yet. Izuku manages to smile, for all that his Dad can probably only see how his cheeks push up with it, and pats his bed. The pro doesn't hesitate to come in then, Caitlin mrowing prettily at his heels.

"Hello love," Izuku croons quietly, lifting his face out of Cadaver's fur to greet their lovely little baby. Aizawa, for his part, scoops her up and then dramatically drapes himself along Izuku's bed, his shoulders and head leant up against Izuku's shins, both facing the door.

"Oomph. I'd ask if I'm too heavy, but I'm not moving again yet," the man drawls, lazily scratching along Caitlin's back.

"Fair enough," the greenette mutters, shifting just slightly to better balance how his Dad is laid back against him. Dadzawa stays quiet though, waiting him out, giving him the time and space to say whatever he wants or needs to get out. Izuku appreciates it, needing that chance to work the words up and past his tight throat and leaden tongue.

"Can... Can we be in for half seven in the morning?"

"Sure."

"...Would you stay nearby? Just in case..."

"If that's what you want kiddo, then 'course. Be warned, your Auntie Zashi and Uncle Nem might try and join me," Aizawa replies, still laying there, grounding but leaving everything open-ended. He doesn't say it, never wanting to undermine his kid's worries, but he genuinely doubts that Izuku will need him. Those two boys of his kid's have moped incessantly for the last two days, for all that Izuku had barely been around them enough to truly notice, and there was practically no way that they would turn his son down.

But if they do break his heart, then Aizawa will take full advantage of being close by. And actually, even if it was positive, he might have to take advantage either way, if only a little...

Getting into school the next morning, the place thankfully empty still, Izuku leaves his Dad at the turning for the corridor, getting a parting hair ruffle and almost-smile from the man in good luck, and trudges to the classroom, the door still half-open. Inside, Toshi and Shou are sat on three desks that have been shoved together, their bags abandoned a few seats away. They look nervous, leaning into each other's shoulders, silent. But then Shouto glances at the door and sees Izuku, immediately perking up. Hitoshi follows his attention and beams at Izuku, before visibly toning himself down. offering a very awkward half-hand wave.

'H-hey you two,' Izuku signs hurriedly. He definitely doesn't trust his voice right now. He just... needs a second or two first.

'Hi Green bean,' Hitoshi returns, and slides to his feet with a questioning look. Izuku, in response, takes a deep breath and nods, even as he steps forward until he's only few feet from them, sliding the door shut behind himself. Then, hands trembling a little again, he raises his arms in a request for a hug.

Within a few seconds, he finds himself sandwiched between the two of them, pressed into Shouto's chest, Hitoshi plastered to his back.

They stand there for a few breaths, but then Hitoshi secures his grip around the both of them, squishing Izuku just that wonderful little bit more, and he begins,

"We love you Izuku. And we love each other too, that's what- what we realised the other day. And we think - we hope to Kami - that you like us both too. That you would want- want be with us. Both of us. All of us together."  And those are the words Izuku has been wishing for all week, but they're still so hard to believe when hoarsely spoken into his curls. Too good to be true, surely.

"I- really?  You're not- joking? Or just saying it? Or- or, I don't know, pitying me or something? I still don't understand how..." Izuku trails off, but the way his voice wobbles and fractures has already given away just how vulnerable he's feeling. It breaks their hearts further. Their friend - their potentially-something-more - has so little self-confidence that he can't believe that his best friends love him and it hurts them to know that.

"Izu, Green Bean, we couldn't love you more. We really, really couldn't. We've all been hurt too many times before to lie or joke about something like this. You brought the three of us together, and we want to keep it that way, but maybe even better. Do you think you'd- you'd like that?"

"I- obviously, now- now that I've thought about it, b-but I hardly deserve-"

"Izuku," Shouto interrupts, abruptly leaning back a little, although still keeping his arms around the other two. The greenette looks up at him, eyes wide and a little wet. They widen further when the heterochromatic boy stoops slowly, then gently kisses him.

Izuku is being kissed by one of his best friends - boyfriends? - and it is more than he could have ever wished for. Ever dreamed of. It's soft and warm, with a little thrill of chill, and it's so goddamn perfect. And by Kami, why haven't they been doing this for longer?

"Oi, my turn," Hitoshi teases when they pull away a little to stare into each other's eyes, the purple-haired boy's arms flexing around them. Izuku and Shouto both snicker, flushing, even as the greenette twists a bit, leaning his head back. Hitoshi immediately leans down, tilting his head to the side just enough to be able to press a sideways-upside-down-perfect kiss to Izuku's mouth, a little bit firmer but still so incredibly loving that Izuku can't help but melt into it. Shouto makes a little murmuring noise, clearly appreciative, and they smile against each other's lips at it, unable to help themselves.

"You deserve everything, Izuku. We want to give you everything," Hitoshi says as they pull away from each other a little, just that little bit flushed and oh. That's even prettier somehow.

"You two do too," he retorts, tugging Shouto closer again so that he can bury his red face in the heterochromatic boy's chest, shifting his hands along the boy's back until he finds Hitoshi's and interlaces their fingers over Shouto's spine. Above his head, the taller teens exchange soft, relieved smiles before nuzzling into those adorable green curls, clumsily pressing their foreheads together with the same motion, and then the three simply stay there, absorbed in each other.

Who knows how much time passes before a weird little aborted sound comes from the doorway, followed by a victorious crow of 'HA!'. The three yelp, stumbling apart, yanked from their blissed-out states to the sight of three of their teachers stood at the open door, including Izuku's Dad. Who's glowering. Fuck, should they be worri-?

"I suggest you put those flames out and settle the fuck down," the man drawls, and suddenly Izuku and Hitoshi realise that Shouto's ear and hair have gone up in flames, likely out of embarrassment.

"Shou!" Izuku yelps, stepping forwards but then simply flapping around, not knowing what to do. Hitoshi meanwhile snorts, then grabs ahold of the heterochromatic boy's own hand and uses it to pat the flames out, gestures gentle for all that he is smirking at them in blatant amusement. Once that crisis is averted, and Aizawa has firmly shut the door behind himself, albeit leaving Nemuri and Hizashi outside with strict instructions not to eavesdrop, thank you very much, the three shuffle together, expressions sheepish but not apologetic. Good, that would have been more worrying, in the pro's opinion. They wouldn't dare be ashamed of his kid - he'd castrate them. Hm, might not be a bad idea either way, that one. Considering.

"Explanation." His voice is utterly flat, and he may or may not slightly regret that when Izuku winces a little.
"I knocked, but apparently you didn't hear. Now you're not in trouble, unless I don't like what I hear. But I'll like it even less if it isn't truth, understood?" And they all have the dignity to look a little affronted at that at least.

"I- we're t-together now. I think?" Izuku's hesitancy is met with two disbelieving faces.

"Of course we are Green bean! We didn't confess our love for nothi-" Hitsohi freezes up when he suddenly remembers their teacher's presence, but Aizawa can't help how he's already snorting at them. Kami, these kids. They'll be the death of him, one way or another, he has no doubts.

"About time. You nearly made me lose the bet we had going, you know," he teases, Cheshire grin in full force. For a long moment, all three of them gape at him, but then Izuku is cackling, sounding a little hysterical but still overall clearly delighted. The taller teens remain gobsmacked.

"Look, there's nothing to punish or reprimand here," Aizawa goes on, tone level enough to almost be bland,
"So long as the two of you continue to treat each other and my son as well as you can, continue to support and protect him as much as he might need it, I'll be happy for you and we'll have no issues, understood?" His voice may or may not have darkened again by the end, but he can't help it. Shinsou and Todoroki are good kids, of that he has no doubts, but they need to comprehend just how very precious Izuku is - no matter if they're his students or not, if they hurt his kid they will see the consequences, and they won't be pretty, to say the least.

"Yes sir," they both nod, tones completely serious, even with Izuku pouting at Aizawa from between them. He'd thought his Dad was helping them sort their problems out, not warn them off-

"Izuku, if they hurt you then they will suffer - no questions. You're my Problem Child, and even though you are perfectly capable, I will protect you with everything I have and no less. Anything other than that is utterly unacceptable. Got it kiddo?" And dammit, now his brat's tearing up.

"C'mere kid," he prompts, voice softer, and he meets the other two teen's eyes over Izuku's head as he holds his son close. Both of them meet his gaze unwaveringly, offering resolute nods even as they step closer to each other and clasp hands, clearly itching to step forwards to Izuku but restraining themselves when he was wrapped up in his Dad's embrace. Good. He knew they were decent brats. Now they would just have to keep it up until the end of time - no feat should be too large though, in Aizawa's opinion, so long as it was in the name of his kid. And judging by their resolution, they seem to be thinking along roughly the same lines. Acceptable, for now.

And Izuku is clearly happy. Which, in all honesty, is all Aizawa truly wants in life nowadays.

When Izuku walks into class five minutes before homeroom, his fri- boyfriends either side of him and Aizawa following a few paces behind, a shy little smile on the greenette's face, a quiet cheer goes up from a few of their classmates. Still, despite the grins, waves and relieved glances that get shared throughout the room, their class know well enough to leave them alone for now, and only a few of their closer friends follow them over to their little corner.

"Are you doing better today Izuku-kun?" Yaomomo asks, one hand pressed to her cheek with something like relief. Izuku, nodding, goes to sign a brief reply, but pauses.

"Y-yeh thanks Yaomomo."  The smiles throughout the class are renewed at the sound of his voice, for all that Izuku fails to notice the correlation.

"That's a relief!" Uraraka chirps, waggling her eyebrows a little at Shouto and Hitoshi, the latter of whom has sat on Izuku's desk to be between them both. Sue them if they want to stay as close as possible right now.

"Indeed it is, Izuku-kun! We have missed you during lunches and breaks!"

"O-oh. Sorry?" comes the sheepish reply, and Hitoshi pokes Izuku's cheek gently, before he can start biting at his lip at all.

"You need not be! It was only an expression of appreciation for your company," Iida goes on, hand-chopping a tad more restrained than usual. Izuku is grateful for it.

Frankly, he's just grateful for all of his friends. And classmates. Oh, and his Toshi and Shou as well, of course. Even just a year ago, with Eraserdad, Tsuka and a few officer friends-of-a-sort, it seemed impossible that he'd end up with a full family, two beautiful partners and a whole group of friends and classmates that genuinely seem to care about him. So no, Izuku really couldn't be more grateful.

The continued conversation pulls him out of his reverie before he can get any more sentimental and potentially teary. Crying would only renew everyone's worries.

"Iida-kun is right, kero," Tsuyu assures, prompting a little round of agreeing nods and murmurs and Izuku feels warm inside at all of their concern and kindness. From the sheer joy still radiating through his chest, elation pulsing a pretty second heartbeat between his lungs, part of him still basking in the pure wonder of being wanted, not only by Toshi and Shou but by every single one of these lovely people. It's a glowing emotion that he can hardly name, still unfamiliar in a not-family context, or really any context beyond his Dad and three uncles-aunts. But Toshi and Shou put words to it for him: love.

Izuku feels loved. And there's never been anything better in the world, he's sure. Nothing.

Chapter Text

Arriving at the café ahead of Toshi and Shou had a different feel to it somehow, now that they were together. It was an intangible thing, subtle, but it had Izuku feeling giggly and light, curling up and encouraging the cats to pile on top of and around him. The furballs obliging him only furthered his good mood.

Which means that Hitoshi and Shouto enter the cat café to find a pile of fur, bits of black leggings and sleeves poking out from beneath the mass of cats, the whole lot giggling occasionally. It is, quite frankly, adorable. And, even better, when they go up to pay, Miyo-san who so often has a shift when they were there offers them each a print-out of the scene. If they immediately tuck the photos away into their bags, then Izuku isn't to know.

"Hey Izu," the heterochromatic boy offers as they both approach the blob, and the single visible eye peers out from a gap in between a calico, a tail and their fri- boyfriend's hood. The gaze that meets theirs is bright and happy, content, shadows shoved aside in favour of that contentment, and it has them both grinning unreservedly themselves, subconsciously reaching for each other's hands as they settle down opposite Izuku, waiting for him to eventually emerge from the pile. For the time being, they lean into each other, shoulder to shoulder, watching with warm expressions as Izuku snickers and wriggles occasionally as fur tickles him from within the mound of cats.

Still, after about half an hour, some of the cats grow bored and wonder off, a few gravitating to Hitoshi and Shouto, and Izuku finally teeters to sit upright, then, after a moment's contemplation, collapses forwards against his boyfriends, deliberately angling himself to end up curled half in their laps, carefully avoiding any felines already in residence.

"Hello there," Hitoshi murmurs, smirking down at him, and Shouto begins to card his cool hand through Izuku's hair, brushing not-quite-frosted fingers against the greenette's brow.

"Hey you two," Izuku returns, as much a content sigh as fully formed words.

"Happy? You've got us trapped here after all, at the mercy of your evil whims."  Izuku huffs, but it's still good-natured, much like Hitoshi's teasing.

"Very."

"Oh no, whatever shall we do!" the insomniac wails, volume low but drama high and he, in turn, flops sideways against Shouto who grunts under the weight, unable to balance himself properly with Izuku anchoring his legs in place, and then they're all toppling, sprawling on top of each other with no small amount of discomfort. 

None of them can be bothered to move all the same.

Instead they stay tangled up on the floor, the cats that had left in protest gradually heading back over to curl up on top of them, finding little nooks and crannies where elbows and knees are bent. At some point, Shouto takes up a quiet, inconsistent humming, from some kid's cartoon that his siblings used to watch, and it has the half-remembered nostalgia of most children's programmes, adding another layer of sweetness to their simple afternoon.

Eventually though, their time runs out, and yet again they're presented with photos they weren't expecting at the counter, Miyo-san offering them all a wide grin as she shoves the shop camera at them and presses the play button. Because apparently it could take videos too and she'd successfully filmed their interactions from when Izuku flopped on them to the moment they all went slumping to the floor and stayed there. It's... cute, honestly, if a little embarrassing.

"You boys finally got your act together then?" she asks, still smiling broadly as she sends over today's file.

"Uh, yeh, we did," Hitoshi confirms, blushing a bit, but not as badly as Izuku. Shouto is the one with the flames flickering at his eyebrow, but he's quick to pat them out again. He's learnt from Friday.

"Wonderful! Oh, that's lovely. You three are always welcome to come here, you know? It's good to see such a sweet trio, let alone one that the cats adore so much and who are so photogenic. I'm glad for you!"

And huh, that's genuine. Izuku doesn't quite know what to do with it, and apparently he's not the only one, but Shouto just shrugs a little and thanks her and then they leave, hand in hand.

From the cat café, the three head home to the Aizawa apartment to do the revision they'd promised that they'd get done today, but knew they wouldn't manage at the café. Only five minutes into the walk, Izuku's phone buzzes and he yanks it from his pocket, always on high alert when his Dad texts him, just in case.

Dadzawa:  [The evil ones are dragging me out against my will.]

              : [Any decent excuses for me?]

Although apparently it isn't necessary this time. Well, better than the alternative.

ProblemChild:  [Nope!]

                     :  [Have fun, as difficult as it'll be without me there to brighten your scruffy face up. Tell Auntie and Uncle I say hi!]

Dadzawa : [You're a brat. I'll be back for dinner. Probably takeout, if you're alright with shifting your cheat day.]

ProblemChild :  [Your brat, remember? And yeh, it's cool.]

Dadzawa : [My brat indeed. Enjoy your date.]  

In lieu of replying to that, Izuku buries his burning face in his hands with a long groan, almost dropping his phone that Shouto thankfully snatches and tucks back into Izuku's hoodie pocket for him.

"Alright there?" Hitoshi asks, meeting Shouto's eyes with something between amusement and mild concern.

"Dad's being embarrassing," Izuku mourns, peeking up at them in turn with a pleading gaze. His boyfriends, cruel traitors that they are, only snort at his pain. Oh, the injustice.

"See if I let you cuddle with the babies when you're being mean."  Hitoshi gasps, indignant,

"Wait, what? Green bean, no, you can't do that, the cats-!"

"We're meant to be studying Toshi," Izuku reasons, perfectly rational. It only earns him a scowl.

"Izu, what if he's allowed to cuddle them, then study?" Shouto bargains, trying to hide his amusement.

"Study, then cuddle," the greenette agrees, a smirk creeping in. Hitoshi pouts, sighs, pouts again, but nods mulishly. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, he lurches forward, dragging Izuku directly and Shouto via Izuku, their hands all still connected, with a soft, victorious exclamation of,

"The sooner we get there, the sooner we're done, the sooner I get more cats!"

And for all the Izuku and Shouto roll their eyes at each other, their thoughts are fond and obliging. Hitoshi wouldn't be Hitoshi without his intense love of cats after all.

Of course, it only takes the insomniac a few minutes to realise that he doesn't actually know where he's going and he freezes, mid-step, prompting Izuku to twist around him to avoid running into his back, but that doesn't save Shouto from doing exactly that, letting out a quiet 'oof' of surprise. Izuku immeediately reaches to steady them both.

"Uh, whoops?" Hitoshi asks, all having let go to laugh and check each other over. After that, they're a little more sedate. Still though, they had missed one turning, and Izuku easily puts them back on track to arrive at his apartment block.

Opening the door, Izuku is quick to shed his shoes and ensures that Shouto has locked the door behind them before leading them further in. Forgive him if he's a little paranoid.

"Welcome to our home, I guess?" For all that he's awkward, Izuku is rewarded by two smiles. But then Hitoshi asks, eyes a little wide,

"Is your Dad in?"

"Nah, Auntie and Uncle dragged him out. They probably wanted- hey loves!" Izuku chirps, interrupting himself to drop to his knees and gather Cadaver and Caitlin close, smiling at Kimchi as she darts past to settle behind the sofa cushions,

"Cats?" Hitoshi asks, already leaning over Izuku's shoulder, reaching out for the furry goodness but Izuku, smirking, stands and dances away.

"We agreed studying then cuddles, Shinsou Hitoshi."

"We did," Shouto concurs, nodding sagely. The insomniac, for his part, looks between them in disbelief, then huffs and puts his bag down next to the table, carefully not sitting where Kimchi's tail is poking out from behind the cushions.

Still, despite his pouting, they all settle down to work around the coffee table, shrouded with blankets and pillows, pens and papers strewn everywhere and the radio on in the background as they worked through practice questions and various formulae and theorems. Their first academic exams are tomorrow after all, and everyone has been cramming for them, but Hitoshi, Shouto and Izuku had tacitly decided to avoid the class-wide study sessions, knowing that being in an unfamiliar environment, surrounded by lots of people, just isn't going to be conducive to their learning. And Izuku would rather not end up flaunting Nedzu's work in front of them, his slightly different timetable is enough already; he's still not entirely comfortable with being shown up as different from his classmates. 

Just because 1-A is full of kind people, it doesn't erase years of ostracisation. Yet every month Izuku spends at UA has him more comfortable with his class, more likely to speak up or laugh or offer opinions than he's ever been before, finding that he likes being part of the group, having friends and teachers that listen to him.

Izuku and Aizawa drag themselves home Monday and, no hesitation, collapse on the sofa together, Aizawa on his back, stretched out and letting out an almost painful breath when Izuku unceremoniously flops down on top of him.

"You survive today kiddo?" he gets out a while later, once Cadaver has curled up on Izuku's back, purring, and Caitlin has settled in the pro's capture weapon, Izuku's breaths ruffling her fur.

"Yeh... Maths was fine, just had to know the equations and apply them. Memorisation. History's the same. I'm more worried about Nedzu's analysis exam tomorrow."

"Kiddo, you should always be sensibly cautious, but I don't think you're gonna need to worry too much about an analysis exam. It's a speciality of yours for a reason," Aizawa says, blinking down at his son's curls. He probably shouldn't be surprised, all teenagers worry over exams, but still. He has no worries over how his kid is going to do.

"I guess," Izuku grumbles, propping his chin against his Dad's collarbone, very much digging it in, intentional or not, to meet his dark gaze. He finds reassurance there, sincerity, and his Dad's confidence in him helps to boost his own.

"No guesses about it kid. Logical conjecture however? Pretty damn useful for analysis, I'm willing to bet." This time, Izuku finds himself smiling a little, shifting to yet again bury his face in the capture weapon. Hopefully Nedzu's exams really will be okay.

By the time they're both dozing off, Kimchi waltzes into the room, meowing up a storm, and Izuku groans as Cadaver leaps off of his back and he can roll off of his Dad, deliberately falling onto the floor and then, despite his intentions, promptly decides not to get up. His Dadzawa, for his part, steps over him to head into the kitchen and feed the hellions. 

His footsteps return, and Izuku, even with his eyes closed, can practically feel the man's smirk,

"As good as it is to see you relaxing kiddo, didn't you have something you wanted to do tonight?"

"Fuck, yeh, I was gonna go back over some of the English shit. Ugh."

"Your two afternoons are biology and physics, right?" Aizawa checks, as much to be sure that Izuku knows as anything.

"Mmyeh."

"Alright. Want a quizzing partner? I know it's hard to keep up with my massive intellect, but I'm sure it'll do you some good." And that, finally prompts Izuku to snort with laughter and heave himself to his feet, heading out to collect some of his materials from his room. Going back over English is one of his least favourite things to revise because it's tedious when he knows the content. It's largely exam technique. School English isn't the same as being fluent in standard, day-to-day English, more's the pity.

But first, physics. 

Thursday morning has all of 1-A gathered, in their hero costumes, at Gym Epsilon, being greeted by almost the entire heroics faculty. Nedzu is stood on Aizawa's shoulder, lower half hidden in the capture weapon, smile already bordering on creepy.

"Now then, do any of you students know what your physical exam is going to entail?" Nedzu's question is met with several cries of 'robots' and his maniacal smile only grows. Izuku stays silent until Nedzu gestures at him, all of the other students quieting at the direct movement.

"Fighting t-teachers?"

"Indeed Izuku-kun, you shall all be engaging your teachers in combat! Now then, can you tell your course-mates why this is?"

"Probably b-because of everything th-that's a-already happened th-this year? W-w-we all need m-more of a realistic challenge." And yes, he does deliberately use the word 'all' to include 1-B. Just because he holds a bit of a grudge against Monoma, that doesn't mean that he can't respect the skills of the class as a whole, whether they're here right now or not.

"Exactly! I knew my personal student would figure it out! Which is why there is a second extra challenge this year - a separate exam, which for most of you has the potential to act as extra credit but will be the sole exam for you, Izuku-kun."

There's a moment of silence, then several of his classmates start shouting, confused and surprised. After a few seconds of it, Nedzu nods at Mic, who draws a deep breath and yells,

"YO, LITTLE LISTENERS! If you'd PAY ATTENTION to your principal, please!" The air vibrates with it, but the shout works and everyone settles back down. Izuku, not liking how several people are staring at him, even if they are familiar faces, shifts to stand more solidly between his boyfriends, fingering at some of the knives tucked into his costume. Seeing his discomfort, his class drag their attention away. He appreciates it, but still thoroughly wishes that Nedzu had at least deigned to warn him about this whole thing.

It's logical that he would need a separate exam, he was kind of expecting it, but he'd figured that Nedzu would go for a regular exam and then a secret second one, perhaps giving him an extra objective, or having him analyse the other fights or something. Not a blatantly different exam... Well, at least the creature covered it up with a logical ruse of being his personal student which, whilst true, and he did actually have a few extra academic exams as a result, he hadn't been expecting as a story to give him an overtly different practical exam.

"So, whilst you are all to be fighting your teachers, Izuku will be leading a team of yourselves against my team of teachers!"

Oh, Izuku is so fucking screwed. So. Fucking. Screwed. 

ALSO - Look what Dust did on their phone - how is it so good on such a tricky little media? I am confusion, but proud confusion, so enjoy!

Dadzawa be struggling, you know?

Chapter Text

Izuku watches through the monitors, comfortable settled on a two-seater sofa with the non-fighting teachers scattered throughout the same room, as his friends and classmates, battle after battle, go up against various faculty members. His Dad is sat beside him, and only grumbled a little when Izuku threw his feet into the man's lap, too focused on Kirishima and Satou getting ready to go up against Cementoss to really complain. Izuku, for his part, arranges his newest notebook across his thighs, pencil in hand, and gets ready to plan.

Kaminari and Ashido against Nedzu is... painful to watch, honestly. Beyond the slightly more obvious exit the creature afforded them, Izuku's analytical mind had him listing other uses of their Quirks and specialities that might have given them more opportunities, or at least more options. But still, he can't whisper tactics to them from the observation room, so he makes do with writing them down and hoping to talk to them at some point.

Seeing Iida and Ojiro work together against Power Loader is a bit more inspiring. Their combo, unpolished though it was, had a lot of merit and Izuku jots down potential variations of it for the future. No harm in being prepared, right? 

And, the way that Dadzawa loses some tension at some of the students finally passing has Izuku smiling a little. Honestly, his Dad is such a Dad. 

Next up are Jirou and Koda against Auntie Zashi which, at first, seems to be going awfully, and another fail for the students. But then Kouda works past his own fears to take advantage of Present Mic's, and the bugs he sends out allow them to overwhelm the pro hero, grabbing the two a pass. And if it unintentionally reminds Izuku of how powerful psychological warfare is, then, well, at least it'll only be used against villains or in an exam situation. Nothing wrong with that! Just some creativity and a penchant for chaos.

Aoyama and Uraraka successfully use Thirteen's Quirk against them, setting up a trap of sorts and, whilst admittedly using a very risky move, they do pass by ultimately cuffing the teacher and Izuku wants to applaud them for their cunning. It highlights their improvements in all the best ways.

Seeing the synergy of Tokoyami and Asui is nice, and getting to view Ectoplasm's limits and ultimate move in person, or, well, through monitors, gives Izuku both ideas and some sense for the kind of things Nedzu might be planning. The conniving creature will probably do a better job of predicting Izuku's teams, match-ups and tactics than Izuku could of him, so he's going to have to be careful. Of course, it would help if he knew more about the parameters but apparently he wasn't going to find out anymore until tomorrow morning. Nedzu really is a little shit.

Sighing, Izuku returns his full attention to the ending of Asui' and Tokoyami's exam, glad to see them finishing it off successfully. They deserve to pass after their good showing.

Izuku watches with hidden flinches when it comes to Bakugou and Shouto go up against the overwhelming strength of All Might, neither quite managing to work together properly, but forcing themselves to at least plan for the blond to be the distraction whilst Shouto gets to the gate, satisfying Bakugou's need for guts and glory, but still ensuring them a win. And with enough ice in the way, and an explosive opponent, All Might doesn't manage to intercept Shouto before the gates. Suffice to say, they pass.

And then Sero, Yaomomo and Hitoshi are left to face up against Eraserhead. Halfway through Shouto and Bakugou's fight, with a brief hair ruffle for his kid, Aizawa gets up and trudges out of the room, headed to their cityscape. And now, he's up on the screen, other monitors showing each of the students and then two more giving wider views of the areas as a whole. It's a good set up, and one that lets Izuku see how Sero and Yaomomo are establishing traps, Hitoshi directing them with his knowledge of how Eraserhead fights, as they steadily head towards the exit. It's a solid plan, but Izuku knows his Dad well enough to predict it's ultimate failure.

Quite correctly too, as his Dadzawa notices every strip of tape, tripwire and little pressure pad and, undoubtedly grinning beneath his capture weapon, evades all of them, catching up to the three quite quickly. Well, at least they made some headway.

Izuku is focusing intently now, trying to surmise what everyone has planned, enjoying the thrill of watching from a distance as his Dad swoops down on his classmates, Yaomomo already with a staff in hand thank goodness, and Hitoshi slips on a set of brass knuckles that Izuku knows he's been toying with lately. Extra momentum and impact are nothing to dismiss. And ah, Izuku can see what they're doing now. Yaomomo and Hitoshi are the distractions whilst their most mobile member tries to get away, taking advantage of their numbers which, to be fair to them, more or less works. Whilst Sero does resort to sprinting out of sight, he doesn't get caught, only sent flying by a single loop of capture weapon that catches his ankle, still managing to escape when Hitoshi slashes at the stretch of alloyed fabric with a Yaomomo-made knife. Well, at least their pre-emptive planning had been up to scratch. 

Which is probably why his Dad doesn't just throw his caltrops or knife at their faces and swing straight past them like he would have a real villain. But, well, this is a school exam, and their strategy is a sound one. 

All the same, Eraserhead puts up a good fight and doesn't go that easy on the pair, getting past them far more quickly than they'd probably like, but he still doesn't have time to catch up with Sero before the passing announcement chimes out, the exam ending. Well, Izuku was pretty pleased with that, and he's got far more ideas for his own tests tomorrow, particularly regarding Yaomomo's Quirk and intelligence. If he ends up having to command most of the class, she would be a solid secondhand and support, and any resources or tools they might need could be accessed through her Quirk, within certain limits. And what if there aren't any set limits on pre-timer Quirk use? They might be able to produce extra weapons and...

Izuku is later dragged out of his thoughts, pencil still inscribing coded thoughts with barely any notice, by a familiar figure crouching in front of him.

"Hey, kid, you ready to go home? You don't have any plans this evening to my memory, and I know you've got a thousand strategies whirling in that fluffy head of yours, but we do need to get home to the cats."

"Oh, yeh, sure, lemme just-" Izuku cuts himself off, finishing up the last few sentences before stuffing away his notebook, nodding to the other teachers still in the room and following his Dad out. He's got all evening and night to plan for whatever eventualities may come, and he's honestly looking forward to it.

Izuku takes that back, he is not looking forward to having his exam today.

"Right, kid, you've got homeroom to form a team from any volunteers and strategise from there. If you've got any problems, text me. Hellspawn, either volunteer or don't, but if you interfere in any way then that will mean disqualification from your own exams yesterday, understood?" There's a round of assent and Aizawa scans them all, nods, then throws a booklet at his son, leaving with a,

"Good luck kiddo. Hellspawn."

"So Green bean, what's actually happening with your exam? Those are your rules, right?" Hitoshi immediately questions, leaning over his boyfriend's shoulder to peer at the booklet that Izuku is already flicking through, Shouto turning round in his seat to also look at it.

"Most of it's the same as you guys yesterday. No lethal force or lethal weapons, although my knives are... well, they're my knives. I have to personally deal at least one finishing blow on one of the four teachers. Said teachers will be Nedzu, plus three others of his choosing, whilst it'll be me plus five volunteers that I choose; half the challenge is pre-emptive strategising to suit who I think he'll choose and vice versa but still make whatever we do work within our team. No time limit, just whoever knocks out and/or handcuffs every member of the opposite team first. It'll be messy." By the end, the whole class is listening in, unreservedly staring. Izuku, jolting a little, looks over them all, sees their smiles and curiosity and nerves. It's like they want him to do well- Oh, yeh, they probably do. Huh.

"Uhm, w-would any of you g-guys w-willing to take the exam l-let me know? It's fine if you're not! B-but, uhm..." Before Izuku can go on any further, there's a clamour of noise, half the class calling out agreements even as most of the rest nod or give him thumbs-ups.

"Oh! Thanks, then. Uhm..." Izuku trails off, abruptly very overwhelmed with both the massive show of support and also the pressure of needing to choose only five people. They're all amazing fighters with amazing Quirks and, if that wasn't bad enough, he has to not offend anyone which-

"Izu, this is your exam. Do whatever you need, we'll understand." And oh, Shouto's right. He needs to think like Izuku, like Kidilante. Not Midoriya.

And so the class watch, confused and more than a little horrified and awed both, as the greenette straightens in place, one hand fiddling with a knife that appears seemingly out of nowhere, a cold, analytical gaze scanning each of them in turn, occasionally returning to one or another, other fingerspelling half-letters rapidly. Then he freezes and shoots out of his seat, crouching up higher on the open windowsill, pulling a notebook out of nowhere, knife disappearing as he starts to write.

After a solid minute of this, the class begin to relax again, a few conversations forming, albeit faltering each time Izuku looks back up at them. This only lasts for quarter of an hour before Izuku heaves a great sigh and nimbly jumps from the windowsill to the top of his desk, leaning down to rummage through his bag and pull out a UA tablet, which he... probably shouldn't be allowed to have. As he starts to type, he speaks, not a stutter or waver in sight, his cool tone demanding attention that's easily given.

"As you're mostly all volunteering, could I ask for Toshi, Shou, Yaomomo, Sero and Tokoyami to work with me? It'll give us a wide skill and Quirk basis, and should fit pretty well with what I expect Nedzu to have planned out. Or well, the top three teams that have an average of sixty-four percent possibility put together, which is significantly higher than most of his combinations. I know he wouldn't be so foolish as to rely entirely on his predictions of what I might do because he's always complaint-complimenting me on my sheer randomness, so he'll know better than to rely on statistics alone. With that considered, he'll probably have picked up All Might for overwhelming strength and a decent chance to take out multiple people in one early blow. Wise. He'll also probably avoid Dadzawa and Uncle Nem because of their relative bias and effectiveness. Gas masks cancel out Somnambulist sufficiently; Erasure is useless against me and minimal against Hitoshi; Dadzawa and I spar too often to really be serious opponents, we'd probably just break each other's arms, plus any third parties might try to invalidate the scores of a Quirkless person based off of supposed nepotism if they were to look into it which considering my blac- actions a while back, the HC might just do..." Izuku trails off for a moment, peering more intensely at his tablet.

He hasn't registered the flabbergasted stares of his class, hearing his stream of words but none entirely understanding them because what is their classmate?  Well, no wonder he has a separate exam from Nedzu is this is how he plans and thinks, picking everything apart in minutes. Plus his sheer knowledge.

"So that takes care of two of his four, including himself. Out of those left, I doubt he'll go with the simpler Quirks such as Hound Dog's or Snipe's, or those that are intensely volatile and easily turned like Thirteen's. That leaves Present Mic, Cementoss, Ectoplasm or Power Loader. Well, there wouldn't be much to do with Cementoss except get him away from concrete which, if this is the cityscape I expect, will be difficult at best, at that point I'd be relying on you two, Shou, Yaomomo. Auntie Zashi... I could probably deal with him, although... No, that should be fine. And Sero's tape would be useful too... Power Loader's pretty versatile, but Shouto or Tokoyami could flush him out and he's less familiar with Toshi therefore easier to brainwash- Hah! Got the plans, ooh, yes it really is a cityscape and if that's not a bottleneck point then I'm not a v- Oh, right. Sorry. Ectoplasm would need containing and overwhelming and, again, he's less familiar with Hitoshi... Okay, this should work," Izuku declares, finally looking up at his classmates. 

He finds a lot of shocked faces.

"Uhm... D-did I say s-something wrong?" he asks, abruptly losing that confidence and blatant competency to uncertainty. Tokoyami is actually the first to react, murmuring an almost inaudible,

"What a mad banquet of darkness," before going on,
"I would willingly aid you in your quest Midoriya. You are clearly a leader of your own shadows."

"Thanks!" Izuku chirps, apparently understanding the cryptic message. And the little interaction jolts everyone else back into coherency. And from there, it doesn't take long for the rest of Izuku's proposed team to agree as well.

Izuku, flanked by his chosen team, all kitted out in their hero costumes plus some extra goodies, enters yesterday's observation room without hesitation, gaze immediately latching on to Nedzu, with All Might, Ectoplasm and Present Mic sat directly around him, the rest of the teachers gathered more loosely throughout the room. Good, his predictions had been solid.

Offering his Dad a brief, toothy grin that's returned with its usual shit-eatery, Izuku turns his full attention to Nedzu.

"We're ready when you are Sensei."

"Oho, I see that you are Izuku-kun. And that my predictions were largely successful."

"So were mine," Izuku returns, and for a long moment, something akin to bloodlust rises between them, swirling oppressively through the room, teachers and students shuddering at it. It only widens their polite smiles into something more feral.

There's a reason that Dadzawa once feared them meeting. A very, very good reason.

"Now then, Izuku-kun, you are all clear on the rules for our fight?"

"I believe so," the greenette concurs, turning to offer a raised eyebrow at his team who all nod or shrug their affirmatives. 

"Excellent! the creature chirps, clapping his paws. It doesn't detract from the predatory gleam in his eyes,
"You will be afforded ten minutes to move around, orient yourselves, for which we will have no access to technology, direct or indirect. Then Cementoss will get us into position and the exam shall begin, yes?"

"Got it." And with that, they leave once more, Izuku and his Dad sharing one more grin, a silent message being passed between them.

Fuck shit up kiddo.

Bet on it Eraserdad.

On the bus to their cityscape, Izuku takes his teammates through their strategies once more. He reiterates the back-ups for the specific teachers that are now confirmed opponents - grappling hooks and nets if Ectoplasm breaks out, taping Present Mic's mouth, waiting All Might out and so on - then they go over the primary plans for a final time, getting their individual roles and timings sorted out, then confirming that their comms are all linked up and they have any equipment they're likely to need.

They're as ready as they can be. Now to see how they'll actually do.

Being let out at the entrance to the exam grounds, the incredibly high dome offering a false twilight, dim but not dark, Izuku offers a small, sharp smile to his team, patting his utility belt briefly,

"You all know your points? Sero, Yaomomo?" They both nod, and when Izuku looks to Tokoyami and his boyfriends, he receives nods from them too. 
"Cool. You've got your comms, keep everyone posted. You have the individual channels for me if needed and you're definitely comfortable with the strategies for if I'm taken out early?" There are clearly more nerves in their affirmatives to that, and for all that the greenette can understand why, it doesn't stop his from trying to boost them up a bit,
"I'm only one part of this team. We're all strong enough to be 1-A students, and I asked you five to join me specifically based on your personal merits, okay? You're all capable and we'll be fine. Now: go beyond-"

"Plus Ultra!" 

And with that, they're off, all jogging down the main road, branching off one by one as they head to specific areas that Izuku had highlighted for them, trying to preserve as much Quirk use and energy as possible. They've got just over eight minutes until their opponents appear. And now that his adrenaline is starting to kick in, Izuku is ecstatic. It helps that he's already scaled a building and is now free-running to the heart of the cityscape, ready to go wherever he might be needed, climbing to the roof of the tallest building, a pair of heat vision goggles in hand.

He's the mind and soul of his team, but they're all different limbs, no less essential, each with their different roles. And he'll do whatever needed to see them all passing.

For the rest of their preparation period, the team get into their positions, ready and waiting for the teach- the enemies to turn up, traps established in their pre-planned spots, and now they all wait, stretching and jogging on the spot occasionally, ready to jump into action.

"Thirty seconds everyone!" Izuku calls, and hears their breathing slow, any shuffling of feet stops. Twenty seconds...

"Entropy?"

"Ready," comes the instant reply, Shouto's tone cool and calm. It's reflected in the whole series of replies:

"Psyren?"

"Yep."

"Creati?"

"Prepared."

"Tsukuyomi?"

"The darkness awaits."

"Cellophane?"

"Ready to go."

"Then let's go guys!" Izuku yells - Kidilante, Hemlock yells, just as a familiar voice booms from near the heart of the city,

"I AM HERE!" And so it begins.

Izuku, for his part, is moving. For now, his job is to make sure everyone's got an opponent and that it's the correct opponent for whom they have good support and decent chances against.

"Entropy, head further into the western sector, Ectoplasm is a few blocks down and west of you - one of those bottleneck points is in between you, use it. Creati, I reckon you can tell where All Might is, keep going for traps. Cellophane, Present Mic is two blocks up from you, occupy him. Psyren, get in close to All Might, but stay out of sight. We need him off-guard. Tsukuyomi, get in with All Might too. Cellophane, I'm headed your way, but I've got a rat to locate first. ETA four minutes. Keep each other updated."

Izuku is scanning the city scape with his long-range goggles, tapping away at his phone, hardly needing to look as he easily free-runs towards Sero and Present Mic. He needs to be ready to trace any disturbances in the cityscape's network to find Nedz-

"Argh-!" A half-grunted scream comes through the comms, a hideous wail in its background and- Shit, that light's bright. Dark Shadow will have more than withered under it.

"Cellophane, head straight to the lit-up area, rescue plan T. I'll head in for Present Mic. Psyren, within two minutes your phone will be pinged with a location, have All Might direct a long-range attack in that direction. All understood?" There's a series of affirmatives, and that's all Izuku needs. He's truly running now, phone zipped away, goggles clipped onto his belt. Gusts of wind buffet against him but they only have him grinning maniacally. Kidilante is in his element: jumping from rooftop to rooftop, zeroing in on an enemy that needs taking down-

Explosions, not large but still carrying, echo from behind Izuku and yes. All Might's been caught in one or more of Yaomomo's traps. Good. And then Izuku catches sight of Sero, the peak of one of his swings carrying him towards Tokoyami from several streets away. Even better. 

Indeed, Sero is heading out to help Tokoyami. The boy's location has been made obvious by the street that's been floodlit, the brightness stark in the artificial dusk. It's harsh enough to have Sero blinking and squinting. And even worse, Nedzu is doing something to keep the bright lights following Tokoyami, now two streets away from where the light first began, Dark Shadow a whisper at best, cowering beneath his cloak.

"To- Tsukuyomi, here!" Sero yells, already untucking the large blackout sheet from where it had been folded up impossibly small for his utility belt. The black fabric billows behind him as he swoops down into the street, draping it over his teammate completely.

"Cellophane, my ally from the light, I offer you thanks," comes the solemn tone from beneath the sheet. 

"Yeh, thanks dude!" Dark Shadow chirps, the fabric bulging and writhing as he grows in size beneath it. Sero, for his part, grins at them and crouches as planned to let Tokoyami clamber onto his back. Thank Kami Yaomomo could make one-way fabric.

"Climb on you two - I'll get you to where you need to be. Tape Transport!" With that, they're headed towards the 'SMASH's, explosions and demolition sounds from the heart of the city.

Meanwhile, Shouto is stood on top of a building, easily stepping off of his high ice walls and onto the roof, staring down at the twenty five or so Ectoplasms on the roundabout below him. They're busy assessing the four thick ice barriers blocking off the only exits to the large space. But this was one of Izuku's approved locations - Bottleneck D - and so Shouto has complete faith in it. The doors on all of the buildings are fake, and the windows are bulletproof glass, which, whilst not unbreakable by any means, certainly isn't an easy or practical option. Plus the ice walls are a solid few hundred feet tall, the tallest being Shouto's personal one, reaching the top of the skyscrapers surrounding the roundabout. Oh, and he made them all a good two metres wide at the base.

Ectoplasm isn't getting out of this any time soon.

Yaomomo, grappling hook at her waist, bo staff in hand, is running. She's been running and jumping and flying through the air for the last five minutes or so, leading All Might in circles, trying to get him to catch their traps. Sero's tape has been strung between buildings. She's covered sections of roads with minor explosives, covering them with a thin layer of matching tarmac. She periodically throws flashbangs or tear gas or empty matryoshka dolls behind her, whenever the hulking man gets too close. It's terrifying and a challenge and exhilarating. Yaomomo's never had so much fun or been so scared in her life. It's quite an adrenaline rush, really. 

Although that adrenaline is threatening to crash sooner or later, and possibly her immediate fat reserves with it. But she's not too worried about that, because Shinsou - Psyren - is close by and Izuku-kun's plan is nearly ready to come to fruition. Or at least this portion of it. They just need Toko- Tsukuyomi to arrive for her back-up and have Entropy ready first, then they'll be good to go.

Just as she's thinking that, All Might gets caught in a third mine patch, his English cursing loud and almost violent as his feet get scorched and he's thrown off course, head-first into a building. If he hasn't gotten a concussion by now she'd be surprised.

"Creati!" And thank Kami, Sero's here, a fabric-shrouded blob on his back. 

"Hemlock, Cellophane has arrived with Tsukuyomi, ready for taking down All Might. Am I switching?"

"Creati, Entropy, switch positions. Entropy, wait until she gives a one minute ETA, to be on the safe side. Psyren, be at the ready. Tsukuyomi, are you both fully recovered? Good. Keep going. Cellophane, support Tsukuyomi for now, as discussed. Tape will help slow All Might down."  They've got their marching orders and they all scatter to follow them, Yaomomo using her grappling hook to swing from building to building, metal staff a reliable first point of impact, for all that it judders at her shoulders with each too-hard swing that she has to catch herself for. But soon she's getting close to Todoroki's location.

"Entropy, ETA one minute. Switch time."

"Got it Creati," comes through the comms, and there's a few blasts of fire nearby, a shadowed figure at their head. 

"You two sorted?" Hemlock's voice is half-muffled by wind but it's clear enough for them both to reply positively and they can practically feel his feral grin in the,
"Excellent," that follows. 

But then Yaomomo's on the roof of a skyscraper, ice to either side, and there are thirty or so Ectoplasms down below, hammering at the ice walls. Ah, thirty one to be precise. Letting out a grim little smile of her own, breathing still ragged, Yaomomo pulls out some of her stockpiled flashbangs, their heat and concussive force minimal, and lobs them into the centre of the mass of them. They scatter like bowling pins, several clutching at their eyes. Well, that's a decent start. She runs along the top of the one of the ice walls, the metre width safe enough, grabbing a container out of her belt. Nothing like learning from your enemies, she thinks to herself as she scatters a few hundred caltrops on the ground in front of, and a few on top of, the Ectoplasms. Well, that's one wall that's better protected at least.

Halfway across the city, Kidilante and Present Mic stare each other down, both smiling but for entirely different reasons.

Then Izuku moves. 

Chapter Text

Across the city, Kidilante and Present Mic stare each other down, both smiling but for entirely different reasons.

Then Izuku moves. 

Two knives hurtle towards the blond, but a single Quirked scream has them clattering off course. One gets lost, but Izuku is already leaping, catching the second and re-throwing it, darting to the side, forcing Mic to turn and keep track of him, starting a dance of blades and noise, Izuku kicking off of buildings and signs and lamp posts, dodging sonic blasts and catching his own knives, several managing to nick the hero but never quite cutting him. Not for the first five minutes anyway.

It makes Hizashi careless. And that's what gives Izuku the chance he needs.

Instead of leaping up and against another building, he flips up and over Present Mic, bo staff abruptly in hand and swiping low and sharp. It swipes immaculately against the back of the Voice Hero's knees, buckling them. He's falling, twisting, attempting to scream. Izuku is faster. He pivots even as he lands, bo staff sheathed in favour of another knife, this one rubber-handled, that he stabs straight into the directional speaker, sparks flying and smoke trailing, the greenette darting away again. He doesn't get off completely unscathed however. Mic, almost desperate, launches an attack regardless of his support gear being damaged and the feedback-laced scream is aimless and loud, catching Izuku in its waves.

Crashing into a building isn't fun, no matter how many times it happens, and Izuku curses to himself, ears ringing, falling further into Kidilante and out of Hemlock.

"I bet you're a screamer in bed too, aren'cha? How much did the soundproofing cost you?" 

And for the brief second that Mic gapes at him, Izuku is already moving, rushing forwards, staff yet again in hand. But it's a distraction as he throws it like a javelin, aim not brilliant but more than sufficient as the blond raises his arms to deflect the seeming blow, faltering in regaining his feet. That leaves him at the perfect height for Izuku to run almost past him, but he latches onto the leather-clad shoulder, swinging himself up and around with the momentum, spinning in a tight curve around the hero to crash his knee straight into the hero's nose. It shatters with a splintering crunch. Present Mic falls back, choking on a muffled cry, blood arching from his face, sparks still flickering from his speaker. The air smells of ozone and iron. Izuku grins. 

"Good fight Auntie Zashi!" he chirps, already latching the exam handcuffs around one of his teacher's wrists and bounding away. He's got a team to support.

"First sequence, report. Present Mic is out." Even now, he's forcing himself back into a more Hemlock-mindset, more serious, less playful, still utterly deadly.

"Creati: Ectoplasm still contained and distracted. No major injuries."

"Cellophane: currently helping to distract All Might. No injuries."

"Psyren: waiting for chance. No injuries."

"Entropy: aiding distraction and containment of All Might, fire only. No major injuries."

"Tsukuyomi: confr- confronting All Might. Slight weakening due to fire. Working around each other."

For half a second, Izuku takes all of that in, weighing up the situation.

"Right. ETA of one minute. When I attack, Entropy fall back, remain ready to use ice. Psyren, speak as Nedzu whenever best, you know what to say. Cellophane and Tsukuyomi, continue, but be careful not to cause friendly fire. Creati, keep us updated. All clear?" A round of affirmatives comes through the comms and Izuku's grin widens further again, rolling as he lands on one roof, leaping onto the next one with ease.

"Good job so far everyone. ETA forty seconds."

Already, he can hear and see the flares of Shouto's fire, the screeches of Dark Shadow, the shouts and blasts of All Might. It's crunch time.

Izuku flips down from a roof, frying pan held in both hands, fierce gaze taking in the positions of his team as he comes down at All Might's back. He lands a velocity-powered axe kick on All Might's neck, the man grunting. Instantly, Izuku is swinging his pan full force at the hand that comes up to grab him, using the clash of metal against knuckles as a grounding point to flip himself up and over All Might's shoulder, over the hand, and grabs a knife that promptly gets stabbed into the hero's thigh. Just because Izuku carefully avoided arteries and tendons, doesn't stop the leg from giving in under the man and he lashes out. Must be panicking.

"Detroit Smash!" But all of the team are already out of the way, following Izuku's tactics perfectly.

"All Might, retreat a block, followed by another long-range attack, understood?" And that might be Nedzu's voice, but it's Hitoshi's words, spoken clearly but with the slightest tininess as though coming through a communicator. Perfect.

"Very well, Nedz-"

Everything freezes. All Might is slack and gormless, eyes with a silver glaze. Hitoshi steps out fully from around a corner, hand fiddling with his voice changer, briefly double-checking something on his phone, the rest of the team poised, ready to jump straight back into the fight should All Might break out. But a few seconds pass, safe, and Izuku gestures at Sero and Tokoyami to go. As they start to leave, the streetlamps - or well, those not destroyed - start to flicker on, full brightness, and Dark Shadow cowers with an annoyed cry, but the other boy simply covers Tokoyami with the blackout fabric once again, and then they're gone, swinging towards where Ectoplasm and Yaomomo are. 

"Go ahead Psyren," Izuku acknowledges. He idly observes how the floodlighting follows the figures of Sero and Tokoyami, but for now it's fine. They don't need Dark Shadow at this moment and Nedzu will be down and out soon, unable to interfere anymore.

"All Might, aim a strong attack towards your right, enough to take out at least five blocks."  The hero, of course, obeys, and Izuku bounces forwards on light feet, knife in one hand, with handcuffs at the ready in the other. The crashing and rumbling of a good dozen buildings collapsing goes easily ignored.

"Entropy, use your goggles, ice the whole area," he commands, careful not to be within arms reach of the Number One Hero. He doesn't want to risk breaking Hitoshi's control early.

"All Might, knock yourself unconscious." A fist collides with the blond's head with a solid thump and then the man is crashing to the floor, eyes closed and breathing slow. Izuku happily comes forwards to handcuff the man, clasping his wrists together carefully, trying to subtly avoid straining his chest. Stabbing the man in the leg was probably enough for one day, he doesn't need to be worsening any older injuries of the hero's. Not that he'd know anything about anything like that, obviously not.

"Got him Hemlock?"

"We did Psyren. Perfect timing, thank you."

"It was your idea."

"Oh hush," Izuku chides, bumping his hip against the taller boy's as they both step back, watching All Might be sunk down into the cement ground with satisfied smiles.

"Entropy, you done?" he asks, busy nudging Hitoshi to start climbing the nearest stable building.

"Affirmative Hemlock. The heat signature's been completely covered."

"Brilliant. Head back to Ectoplasm's location, we're headed there now." Then Izuku switches to the team-wide comms channel,
"All Might and Nedzu down and out. All still well with Ectoplasm?"

"Yes, so far. He's more desperate now, sacrificed some clones to get back at the ice wall and has picked about halfway through it, maybe a little less. We've kept him at bay between the three of us," Yaomomo reports, clear and calm. Izuku appreciates it, thinking everything through. They've got all of their team remaining, but Yaomomo and Shouto will be close to their Quirk and physical limits by now, and they'll need to be careful not to put too much more strain on Sero or Tokoyami. Okay, he can work with this. 

"Good. ETA one minute for myself and Psyren. One and a half for Entropy. Maintain your positions until our arrival, prepare for takedown E-4. All okay?"

Aizawa has to bury yet another snicker in his capture weapon as his class burst out into cheers as All Might falls still and slack under Shinsou's control. Admittedly, the screams and jeers and miscellaneous yelling isn't half as loud as their prior reaction to Izuku teasing Present Mic, nor to when Izuku had smashed his knee into the blond's face, but it's still pretty good. Their 'ooh's and 'ahh's for Todoroki's containment of Ectoplasm had been amusing too.

And now the general consensus of 'hell yeah' goes up, several of the teachers themselves cackling and shouting along as All Might destroys a whole swathe of city at Shinsou's command. Nedzu, of course, is in amongst that rubble somewhere but both Aizawa and Izuku know the creature well enough to know that he'll have accounted for possible destruction when he stationed himself, so the chances of him being actually crushed are low. And his brat is a clever, cunning thing, because he's got Todoroki up high, scanning the destruction with heat vision goggles and he focuses in on an area, sending ice to it. The initial slender crackle snakes out, randomly ballooning out over one pile, but judging by how Cementoss sighs across the room, raising a hand against the concrete of the single exposed wall in the observation room, the heterochromatic teen must have successfully frozen Nedzu over.

Huffing, Aizawa pulls out his phone for a moment, letting Tsukauchi know that there's gonna be an... amusing video file headed his way sometime this afternoon. After all, he knows the detective is a friend of All Might's as well, but he also knows that sometimes Tsukauchi can be pretty frustrated with the blond regardless, so there's no harm to sending him a clip of All Might getting his butt kicked by their vigilante and some other teenagers.

Accordingly, Aizawa sends a slightly ominous message to their group chat, glad that Izuku had to block all of his messaging apps for the duration of the exam.

ToiletPaperFather: [I'll send you a video file later. Watch it. And don't @ the kid.]

PolygraphWho : [okay?]

                       : [and it's a school day so obviously i wouldnt. has he had his exam yet?]

ToiletPaperFather: [It's still going, but going well. I'm sure he'll tell you all about it later.]

PolygraphWho : [good]

                       : [thanks i guess?]

With that arranged, Aizawa tucks his phone away once more. Ah, good, Izuku and the rest of his team are just about getting to Ectoplasm's iced off area.

Izuku comes to an easy halt on the top of a skyscraper, keeping half an eye on Hitoshi, who is scaling the last twenty metres of the side of the building. Admittedly, Izuku does have a rope that is attached to his teammate's costume, but he'd rather not need it. And look, there's Shouto. A short burst of flames propels him from the nearest roof a few stories lower, coming to a slightly messy landing beside Izuku, panting a little. Like Izuku'd thought, the beginnings of Quirk exhaustion. Not surprising really, considering. But hey, at least a semi-equal use of fire and ice over the exam has kept Shouto from overheating or getting frostbite.

"Entropy, take Psyren's rope. Don't pull him up, preserve both of your strengths. Shout if anything happens, we'll start sorting ourselves out, confirm the plan."

"Got it," the taller teen nods, securing the offered rope himself.

With those two okay, and giving Shouto the chance for a breather, Izuku sets off to the other three of his team, assessing them for injuries even from a slight distance and finding himself pleased that they seem to be doing okay. A bit battered up and Yaomomo in particular is visibly a bit thinner, but they're still bright-eyed and standing straight which Izuku will take more than happily. He knows that his stamina is comparatively ridiculous, used to four to ten-hour shifts through the night, so he understands that the rest of his team are more worn out than he is, or at least showing it.

"All alright?"

"Hemlock," Yaomomo greets, offering him a brief smile, even as she pops a few more little flashbangs and drops them off of the side of ice wall.

"The darkness is thriving for the time of present," Tokoyami adds on. From below, Dark Shadow screeches joyously, swooping down to snatch up one of the clones, soaring back up and throwing it across the ice-formed arena. Sero nods along, one hand steadying Tokoyami just in case, the other arm shooting out short strips of high-stickiness tape into the crowd of Ectoplasms, forcing two or three of them to pause and untangle themselves every time. Good, they've been wearing the hero down nicely.

"We'll be starting takedown E-4 once the last two join us. Any questions?" 

"You sticking with your initial predictions?" Sero asks, squinting down at the crowd of clones, still with a good twenty plus of them swarming below. Many of them glare back up. Izuku can't help but smirk and wave enthusiastically at them, knowing they probably won't be able to see his expression but the wave would be obvious enough. He ignores the slightly disbelieving noises from Sero and Yaomomo.

"Yeh. Still far more likely than not. Us all being here will make him more desperate as he'll, quite correctly, assume that he's the only teacher-member left. He'll want to take us all out as easily and quickly as possible. Else he's doomed to failure."

There's comfortable silence after that, all of them occasionally sending a bit of tape, flashbang or smoke bomb down, Izuku digging into the small supply of the latter in the back of his utility belt, patiently waiting for Hitoshi and Shouto to join them, at which point Izuku speaks up once again,

"Takedown E-4, same predictions. Yaomomo, can you get us some more rope?" Within a minute or two, they're all descending from the side of the nearest building, rather than the ice wall they'd been watching from. Several of the Ectoplasm clones have broken off from the pack and are now stood at the base of the building, waiting, circling. When there's only another ten metres to go, only just safe, Izuku nods to Shouto.

"Entropy, go for it."

A massive burst of fire has the clones darting away again, giving the team the time and space to get onto the ground and ready. The last of the flames flicker out to reveal all twenty three clones at the ready, fighting stances held, eyeing up the students. Then they start to rush forwards.

Izuku immediately leaps ahead, flipping over the first clone and landing a kick to the back of its head, even as he throws a knife into another's throat. He lands, spins a kick into the side of a third clone, ducks under the punch of a fourth, and rolls backwards, popping up with a knife to the back for said fourth clone. Izuku promptly turns back to the third and bashes it over the head with his pan, not bothering to watch as it slumps unconscious before also dissolving back into the viscous fog. By now, the rest of the team are also charging forwards to engage with the clones. Judging by the ever-jerkier movements though, the hero is about to give in and-

From the back of the crowd a massive cloud of that thick fog starts to billow up, Izuku letting out a cry of warning before all of the clones dissolve, fading into the growing mass. The team brace themselves, Shouto crackling out some protective ice layers, and then the arena itself seems to throb. Air moves back in a massive rush, howling and pained cries filling the air as a massive shadow manifests, the remaining fog clearing to reveal a gigantic Ectoplasm.

Well, at least Izuku was right.

Less fortunately, Tokoyami and Sero have been caught up in the blast of air and pressure, crumpled at the edge of the space, clearly unconscious. But there's no pools of blood, so Izuku refocuses on the rest of his team. Yaomomo is practically wobbling in place, a hastily-made barrier allowing her to keep her footing, and Shouto and Toshi are near Izuku, protected by the same ice. This is workable.

"Creati, stay back, offer support, keep an eye out for the other two! Entropy, Psyren, cover me!" Izuku calls out, already running forwards. They had three main plans for giant Ectoplasm, and luckily their primary one should be completely viable still.

Accordingly, Izuku reaches Ectoplasm's foot, dodges the stomp that attempts to catch him, and latches on. Then climbs. A moving person is more difficult than a building, sure, but he's done similar things on smaller scales before, and a knife stabbing someone a good lot bigger than the average person is more like a needle's pinprick honestly. Hence Izuku scaling up the leg, then the torso, of the giant with zero compunctions. He's forced to pause occasionally, trying to keep a better grip when Ectoplasm swings or stamps to try and take out Shouto and Hitoshi, or when the giant pauses long enough to swat at Izuku, but the greenette easily reaches the collar of the trenchcoat. The jaw guard provides good climbing apparatus too and then Izuku is attached to Ectoplasm's face, his largest knife held by the man's eye, a smaller one lodged in his cheek to help Izuku stay in place.

"Ectoplasm, reply to Psyren! Stabbing you in the eye, even in your giant state, would do significant damage you know. Might need more than a kiss better," he taunts. The hero tenses, pausing. 

And falls straight into Izuku's trap.

The giant begins to shrink and dissolve, dislodging Izuku almost immediately, knife slipping out of his cheek, losing his footing on the jaw guard. Yet, even whilst Ectoplasm is shrinking, Izuku doesn't lose contact with him, doesn't fall away or off, doesn't drop his knives. Instead, he latches on. He keeps a grip and, as the hero returns to his usual size, about to let out more clones, there's a weight on his shoulders, a pressure across his throat, a knife yet again at his face. 

Of course, said knife is the size to gauge his eye out completely, and then a rush of crackling cold has the man's legs and torso encased in thick ice, Hitoshi coming forwards with another pair of cuffs in his hands.

"Thanks for making our job easier! You gonna listen this time?" Izuku chirps, tone bright and casual. He could almost be discussing his favourite snack or hobby, but his legs are tight around Ectoplasm's neck and the ice around the majority of his body is sinking chill down to his bones. Suffice to say, the hero allows Hitoshi to cuff him without any difficulties.

"Student team wins! Would all participants please remain in place, a tunnel to the observation room will be opening up for those of you conscious. Medical bots have already been deployed for everyone else!" And that's Nedzu's voice coming through speakers that are probably set up high in the ceiling. And, huh, that's the exam over, just like that. Weird.

"Green bean!" Izuku, only just jumping down from Ectoplasm's shoulders, is immediately bowled over by his boyfriends, all three of them clattering to the floor with slightly hysterical laughter and grins. Before they can chatter or get up to check on their teammates, the aforementioned med bots appear out of the ground, the concrete opening up for them, and Izuku scrambles out from beneath his boyfriends to watch as Tokoyami and Sero are taken away, along with Ectoplasm. Hitoshi and Shouto both keep ahold his hands as he walks over to Yaomomo, smiling to one another.

"Yaomomo, go with them too, please? At the very least to let Recovery Girl give you some of her gummies," Izuku asks, tone polite and slightly concerned, a far cry from the analytical commands of only moments ago. It earns him a smile either way, and when Yaomomo raises one arm slightly in subtle question, the greenette does actually dart forwards to give her a brief hug, carefully tucking his face against her shoulder, squeezing lightly before he steps back again.

"You did really well, we all did. Thanks Yaomomo."

"I enjoyed it Izuku-kun, so of course!" And with that, she sits on the fourth stretcher, allowing the med bots to take her to the Infirmary too.

"Back to the observation room?" Izuku asks, offering his hands back to his boyfriends. For all that Hitoshi rolls his eyes and Shouto pouts a little, which is fair considering Izuku let go in the first place, they take him back and all head into the tunnel that's opened up for them. Time to face their class.

Well, the tunnel does literally put them in the observation room, opening up on the single bare wall, opposite all of the monitors now showing an empty cityscape, half destroyed.

Everyone is still sat around the room, and it's Aizawa, Jirou and Shouji who first hear the three of them coming up through the tunnel. The man is immediately on his feet, weaving through the room to be stood opposite the opening. Izuku, for his part, bounds up to his Dad, smiling wide and pretty, but pauses, abruptly very aware of their watching audience.

Then his Dad is stepping forwards, swinging him up into a great big hug,

"Good job kiddo. I'm so fucking proud of you."

And for all that his words are quiet, and both of their faces are buried in capture weapon and each other's shoulders, several of the people closest to them grin, whispering amongst each other. The two Aizawas ignore both that and the general clamour that springs up, Izuku hiding a wobbly smile in the familiar scent and worn-soft-rough feel of his Dad's capture weapon, heart burning warm and bright in his chest with the echo of those words. His Dadzawa is proud of him, thinks he did well, and that's really all that Izuku can ask for. More than.

Chapter Text

That afternoon sees Izuku and Aizawa returning home, ready to take a nap. Well, they both have a nutrient pouch first, Aizawa feeding the cats whilst Izuku heads into the bathroom to shower, but then they pile up with blankets, cats and each other on the sofa, Izuku curled up against one arm of the furniture, head pillowed on his own arms, and Aizawa unabashedly drapes himself over his son, hair getting all in the kid's face, one arm curling along the line of Izuku's, providing another width to the kid's makeshift pillow, other arm trailing off of the sofa entirely, fingers just brushing Kimchi's fur. Cadaver and Caitlin settle on top of Aizawa, three blankets not thick enough to block out the wonderful vibrations of their purring.

"You trying to squash me?" Izuku grumbles, huffing out a great breath that lifts Aizawa's hair out of his face. It falls straight back of course.

"Mmph," the man offers, not bothering to answer properly. He knows that the kid doesn't really care, or at least not in any negative way; they both thrive off of casual affection after all, as much as they might deny it to most people.

Hence them happily napping like that for a few hours.

All too soon though, the incessant racket of Aizawa's alarm has them both grumbling and shifting, the cats leaping away pretty quickly. Aizawa finally leans off the sofa far enough to bat at the phone, Izuku groaning and complaining with how he's being squashed in a different way, wordless but his aggravation all too obvious. Huffing, Aizawa cranes his head down to plop a noisy kiss on the kid's brow then scrapes his stubble over the spot a little before rolling over the brat, sprawling onto the floor and lying there for a long few moments.

"I'm not as young as I used to be," he mutters, groaning as he heaves back up to his feet, stretching aching muscles and rubbing at aching joints. Izuku, hair mussed, a little dried track of drool on his chin, blinks up at him. Then lashes out with a half-hearted kick. Admittedly, it only skims Aizawa's thigh, but the hero scowls down at his brat all the same.

"You've basically embedded me in the sofa, you great lug of a caterpillar hobo. Help me up." 

For all that he snorts, his Dadzawa does smile and keep Izuku steady while he does exactly that, practically picking the teen up before he can unfold his own limbs and begin to stretch too. They really need to stop sleeping on the sofa.

"You tired, or still up for patrolling tonight? It's only until two." The man asks, headed around the counter to root through the fridge and drag out the half-prepared ingredients for a quick dinner of fish, rice, soup and veg. It's healthy and easy to both eat and cook, and there isn't much else to it. Good for nights like tonight.

"Both, as per usual."

"Ah, a mood."

"Why the fuck did you say it like that? You're not posh, you hobo," Izuku retorts, the note of genuine curiosity easily overriden by his judgeyness. Rude, in his Dad's opinion.

"Kid, you've gotta stop calling me a hobo when we literally share our home."

"Meh. It's kinda true though," Izuku muses, coming to start frying the fish for him.

If he hipchecks his Dad none-too-gently on the way, then it's a given that the man elbow jabs him a moment later.

"Kid, how the fuck is that true?" 

"Shit be shit."

"I'm not even gonna bother with that. I'm just not." Instead, the man turns his attention to the soup. Honestly, his kid.

"Oh no..." someone groans, just loud enough to be heard over the general hubbub of the main workroom for the local police precinct, everyone immediately looking up to see two very familiar figures strolling casually into the room.

"Hey Takada!" Izuku chirps, mask and hood on, bounding over deposit a large box of cookies on said officer's desk, almost an apology. Or perhaps a bribe. The officers will take it anyway.

"You just here for Tsukauchi?"

"Unfortunately for you guys, yep! See you round, don't eat too many cookies! Oh, and remember to save Sansa one of the peanut butter ones, else he'll start scratching everyone's chairs like last time. All your moaning got annoying." And that earns a well-deserved round of shudders. The Cookie Retribution Incident hadn't been fun.

Not even five minutes later, Takada knocks briefly on Tsukauchi's door, steels himself, and heads in.

He walks straight back out again, files clutched close to his chest with a white-knuckled grip, and Haruki is already on her feet and bringing him the precinct trauma blanket. It takes a few minutes and the penultimate peanut butter cookie, but he eventually looks up at them all with clear eyes,

"So Eraserhead was stood on Tsukauchi's desk, right?" There's a round of acknowledging murmurs, everyone pausing their work to hear the latest story. Some of them are shivering already. The detective's desk is sacred.

"And he was just holding Kidilante up by the armpits, all Simba-you're-the-king-now style, and Tsukauchi was just... sat there? Sipping coffee, calm as you please. Nonchalant? Didn't even bat an eyelid when he would've stabbed us with that chunky pen of his. And they-" he hesitates, shakes his head a little, eyes haunted, but continues,
"They were humming that lion king song, you know the one, but they were all at different pitches and speeds and energy levels and it was so wrong but it kind of worked?"

“Probably due to the chaos.” Sansa offers, tone sage and oh-so-done despite having only come into work three minutes ago.

“Probably,” Takada nods,
“I’ll... I’ll go back in ten minutes or so.”

“I'd go for fifteen, just to be safe. Maybe twenty.”

"Yeh," he pauses, joins in the room-wide sigh,
"Yeh, I think I'd better."

Meanwhile, Izuku has twisted in his Dad's hold to squint at the closed door over their shoulders.

"Yo, Tsuka, who was it? They didn't stay for long."

"Takada, I think you traumatised him again, I almost feel sorry for the ma-"

"Us? Tsuka, you letting someone even touch your desk is like some high-level bribery shit on our part. We all traumatised him together." The smug tone has Aizawa dropping his kid. Well, his arms were getting tired too. But still.

"Bastard," the kid snarls, landing in a neat crouch and popping back up to latch a hand onto his Dad's wrist. Of course, he yanks hard on said wrist, pulling his Dad down from the desk. Before they can initiate a sparring session in the detective's office (it would hardly be the first time) Aizawa's phone starts buzzing and, with a disgruntled huff, Izuku releases the man to allow him to answer it. Caterpillar hobo got off easily this time.

"So Izuku, kid, we've probably got a few minutes now. Want to tell me about your exam?"

"Hell yeh I do!" Izuku exclaims, burning off some energy by falling into a neat handstand, starting to wander around the room like it. Shame there's not more floor space really.

"So, I had a team from my class and Nedzu had himself and three more teachers, right? I got to choose from anyone who volunteered which was all bar Bakugou which, weird, but I'll take it. I ended up going with Toshi, Shou, Yaomomo, Tokoyami and Sero, you remember them all from the Sports Festival? People I know I can worth with. And it gave me an ace, a powerhouse, a support, a good all-round fighter and then mobility. Plus myself, that was gonna work pretty well against whatever Nedzu was gonna throw at us: All Might was kinda a given, you know? Oh, wait, you're friends with him, aren't you?" Izuku asks, curving back onto his feet, face a little flushed from the headrush. His mask is still abandoned on Tsukauchi's desk.

"We are, have been for years. But he can be a bit distant from everything, so it's always fun to see him brought down a bit in private."

"Hah!" Izuku snorts, completely comfortable once again. There are many reasons he and his Dad have ended up so close to Tsukauchi over the years, and that kind of attitude is a perfect example.

"So, anyway..." The re-telling goes on, not interrupted by the return of Aizawa who comes back in through the window he'd left through, easily catching the knife that got thrown at his neck, having expected it. Damn brat. All the same, when the tale draws to a close, the pro asks,

"You tell him about the screamer comment?" The way that both Izuku and Tsukauchi snicker is answer enough.

"Sounds like you did well kid," Tsukauchi offers, once they've all shut up again. Before Izuku can reply, Aizawa interjects with a,

"Damn right he did." And if Izuku curls up in the corner out of embarrassment, then the two men will only take a few photos before moving the conversation on.

When said conversation shifts to boring topics, Izuku pulls out his phone and opens up the class group chat, noticing how the volume of notifications is even greater than normal. Oh, yeh, that mall trip everyone had been planning. It's kind of a shame that he and Hitoshi have already agreed to go with Shouto to visit his mother, Rei. Although, honestly, Izuku is quite excited for it, despite his nerves. Reuniting with the woman over the last few months has had Shouto smiling and, in his boyfriends' opinions, anything that can do that is worth both the time and effort. 

At least they're not going until ten in the morning. It will give Izuku the chance to catch up on some sleep and not be completely dead first. Small miracles.

He's pulled from his scrolling of the class messages by his Dad standing up.

"Ready to go Kid? Shift starts in fifteen, just long enough to grab one more coffee."

"Got it Eraserdad!" Izuku chirps, grabbing his mask from the desk.

"I've still got two weeks until my respite, haven't I? One of term, one of your near-constant presence?" Tsukauchi asks as they all converge towards the door.

"Aw, Tsuka don't you love us? Don't say you want to be rid of us; I'm hurt! I'm offended!"

For all that the detective rolls his eyes, the gentle way that he squeezes Izuku's shoulder is far too telling.

"Go away, you gremlins." The Aizawas do exactly that, nodding to the various officers still scattered throughout the main room. Six hour shift here they come.

Three hours or so in, they come across an honest-to-Kami bank heist. It's clearly been planned, if not well, judging by how they're all positioned, weapons at the ready, herding all of the customers into one corner, plus all bar one of the tellers, one man left to tap away at his computer, one of the villains hanging over him. Right, hostage situations are never fun. Still, they're also not new.

"I take distraction, you take extraction?" Izuku - Kidilante - asks, already holstering his pan in favour of his bo staff in one hand, several knives in the other. Aizawa barely hesitates, logic overwhelming the instant of putting my kid in danger no no no, as he nods, already headed for the windows behind the hostages. This won't be their first operation like this, nor, doubtless, their last. Hence Izuku casually jumping down from their current rooftop, flipping and sticking the landing before popping up to stroll jauntily into the bank, nodding to the one guy stood by the door, who for a long moment just gapes at the kid casually walking past him.

Then of course, he seems to wake up, rushing forwards to hold his gun against Kidilante's head, cushioned by the black hood but still distinct. Izuku only smirks beneath his mask.

"Hey there boyo! What you guys up to on this fine Friday evening?"

"You better behave! This gun is-"

"Against my head, yeh, I gathered that from, you know, being able to feel it. Duh. Anyways, I'm just your local neighbourhood vigilante," Izuku went on, casually strolling further into the bank, forcing his companion to keep up with him, eventually latching a too-tight grip around Izuku's bicep. He hasn't noticed the knives and, apparently, has dismissed the bo staff as some stick or something. Idiot.

Even better, Kidilante's dramatic but gradual entrance has attracted the attention of the entirety of the bank. Including the civilians. And that glimpse of black is his Dad. Perfect.

"Just some two-bit vigilante?" The apparent ringleader jeers, circling back around the tellers' counter. Well, that's one more person in less danger.

"Well, two-bit's a tad rude. But yeh, I'm a vigilante. Just gotta get that beating up bad guys rush, you know? Adrenaline and shit." And they can't see Kidilante's feral grin, but they can feel the miasma of it, heavy and pervasive. Izuku's captor tenses with it. Is it time ye- Ah, it is. Fun.

Izuku bursts into a flurry of motion.

He flips forwards, halfway between a martial arts back kick and a forward walkover, one boot coming up to smash under door guy's chin, sending him back with a chunk of something - probably tongue, lovely - going flying, gun clattering to the ground, Izuku easily yanking his arm free with the movement. And the other villains are beginning to open fire, a hail of bullets and- and fucking popcorn, what the hell - headed for the vigilante. But Kidilante brandishes his pan even as he rolls away, dodging and deflecting most of the bullets. A few scrape his limbs, but the burn is only that. He's barely bleeding. As he rolls, he sends out several knives, one being pushed off course by a rogue bullet, but three of the villains still go down. Only four to go now.

Well, three, judging by how one mutant, skin blue and weirdly squishy, even at half a glance, gets yanked back by strips of off-white, smashing heavily into a wall. Good on Eraserdad.

Izuku promptly gets distracted by another round of gunfire aimed at him, this time running forwards into the onslaught, pan braced to take them, all aiming at his chest like the fools they clearly are. The recoil hurts like hell, but it's not the end of the world. Particularly when he gets the chance to flip up and over one man's head, who immediately falls to friendly fire. Whoops, hopefully he's not dead. Still only two more- No, one more, Eraserdad got another.

"Kidilante, how you holding up?"

"Pretty good. Run of the mill, you know? Although one guy had fuckin' popcorn shooting out, if you can-"

"Oi! my Quirk's amazing!"

"Wait- oh holy shit, Eraser, this one's Popcorn Pinkies." The only villain left, glaring at them both, the ringleader - he was the one shooting popcorn from his hands earlier. Popcorn. 

"You're taking me to the cinema next week now, no question about it," Kidilante comments idly, he and his Dad easily setting themselves up to be stood at an obtuse angle to each other, able to keep the whole bank in sight between them. No blind spots. But with the advantage of having popcorn pisser caught between them.

"The fuck I am."

"Hah! I win," Izuku chirps, already darting forwards. Do they regularly use banter to determine who gets to attack first? Yes. Does it work? Hell yes it does.

Case in point: Kidilante rushes forwards, brandishing his pan to distract popcorn pisser from the capture weapon looping behind him, latching around his neck and yanking him back, shooting popcorn wildly but uselessly as the alloy strips wrap all the way down his arms and hands too. And that's the heist dealt with.

"Yo, Eraser, you got some spare cuffs? My ties are running low."  Izuku catches the two sets tossed to him, quickly bending to latch them onto the nearest crook. Well, that was a productive ten minutes.

Unfortunately, the next twenty are far less so, some of the local officers arriving, all more than familiar with the pair, nodding and offering smiles or grimaces, depending. At least because the officers know them, and also know that Izuku is technically acting within the law, easily taking his and Eraserhead's statements as they load up the villains, piling up their guns. Outside the bank, the customers and tellers, including the one who had been at the computer, are being checked over by medics, police dotted amongst them as they talk to people. Beyond that, there's a gathering crowd of media. Fuck, really?

"Hit the roofs?"

"Let's hit the road Jack, and don't we come back no more, no more, no more!" Izuku singsongs as they both leave through the window where the civilians had been gotten out, easily climbing a fire escape in the side road to get up to the roofs and continue their patrol. Well, once his Dad has managed to sit Izuku down long enough to dress his bullet scrapes and ruffle his hair beneath the hood.

What a fun start to the evening.

And a little bonus scene (thanks Hannah)   ;)

23:47, Date Unknown, Detective Tsukauchi's Office, Local Musutafu Police Station:

Aizawa cackles louder as the split screen shows Nedzu's expression, caught between indignation and glee, as All Might turns under Shinsou's mind control, winds up, and lets loose with a blast of power that levels five blocks, including Nedzu's, the creature disappearing under rubble with an undignified squeak. At his side, Tsukauchi practically chokes on his popcorn. Even on the sixteenth replay, this is still far too funny.

It gets better when All Might collapses to his own fist.

"Wait- it's like that riddle!" The underground hero suddenly exclaims, sitting up straight, finger pressing into the screen with how furiously he points at it,
"If you punch yourself and it hurts, are you weak or strong?" They both pause for a moment, eyes meeting.

"Weak."

Their simultaneous answer has them collapsing with laughter again, delirious off of sleep deprivation, overly-sugared popcorn and good old-fashioned humour. 

This is the sight and sound Sansa walks into. The cat-headed man stalks over, snatches away the popcorn with a scowl, muttering about 'over-tired imbeciles' which, rude, before powering down Tsukauchi's computer, even as he glares at them both.

"Go home, both of you. Else I'll tell Kidilante to replace all of your coffee with tea for a week." They groan and grumble at him, neither truly replying.

"It's two weeks now. Go." And judging by how his phone is already in his hand, the officer means it, so they both shuffle around to collect up their various scattered belongings. Yet even as they leave, Aizawa mutters,

"Weak." It has them both cackling in time for the other night-shifters to glare and point at the exit. Well, they know where they're not wanted.

"Want to come back and watch it again at ours?"

"Hell yes I do." And that was their plans sorted for the next two hours. Hopefully they wouldn't wake Izuku up but, even if they did, the kid would probably just join in. Chaos was in their blood after all.

Chapter Text

Shouto knocks on the door, glancing back to offer his two boyfriends a warm glance. Hitoshi and Izuku, for their parts, exchange a nervous look, but still follow behind the heterochromatic boy, hand in hand.

"Hello Mum."

"Shouto! Oh, hello darling." And damn, they can really see the similarities in the soft voice and pale looks, fine-fingered hands and straight-hanging hair. But most of all, the kind eyes. Calm eyes.

"And you two must be Izuku-kun and Hitoshi-kun. Is it alright if I call you by your first names?" She's looking at them with a fond expression, if perhaps a little hesitant too. Izuku immediately wants to allay any fears she might have,

"Of course Rei-san."

"Wonderful. Thank you both for being so lovely and looking after my son, despite my not being able to." She bows to them, as much as she's able whilst sat on her bed. They're having none of it.

"Mum, that isn't your-"

"Rei-san, you shouldn't-"

"Rei-san, don't say-" The three teens pause, looking to each other. And promptly fall into snorts and giggles, leaning in close together as they laugh, Rei watching on with a smile both relieved and content. 

"Honestly, Rei-san," Izuku starts, once they've calmed down,
"Thank you for Shouto. He- he makes us very happy."

"We wouldn't be without our Peppermint," Hitoshi tacks on, squeezing both of their hands slightly.

Of course, they aren't expecting Rei to tear up, raising a trembling hand to rest delicately over her mouth, wide-eyed and staring. Did they say something wrong? What is it? What can they do-?  Looking to Shouto, they find him just as confused but, after a moment, it clears and he leaves them to step forward and settle on the edge of his mother's bed, offering her his cold hand with the faintest of smiles. She takes his hand without pause, folding it loosely in her lap, brushing a soft thumb over his knuckles. The interaction reminds Izuku a bit of his Dad. That thought has Izuku smiling properly and Hitoshi, glancing down at him, smirks a little, looping his arm around the greenette's shoulders to tuck him in close to his side as they stand back from the bed. It's good to see Shouto so comfortable with someone beyond themselves.

Regardless, after a few minutes, everyone has fully calmed down, and their boyfriend is the first one to speak,

"I can't remember if I told you yet Mum, I don't believe I did, but do you remember that a hero student called Hemlock was instrumental in gathering evidence against Him?" Oh no. Izuku has a very bad feeling that Shouto's about to expose him.

"Why yes, I do. A very clever young person they must be too."

"Well, guess what Izuku's hero name is?"

"Oh, surely not- Oh! Thank you, thank you so much-" And when Rei opens her arms in a clear invitation, Izuku only hesitates for half a moment before coming forwards to accept her embrace, soothing a hand in small circles over her shoulder. It doesn't feel like she's crying, but still.

"You've both done so much for us all, for my son, I really can't thank you enough!" One of her arms leaves Izuku to beckon Hitoshi forwards as well, and then they're both being hugged by their boyfriend's mother, her gratitude evident in every soft arc and tense line of her body.

"It's the least we could do Rei-san. Honestly."

"We only ever want to help Shouto. We really care a lot about him."  Their words are muffled against her and each other, but she hears them and, for a long moment, holds them both tighter for it. When she loosens her hold, they easily step back, Shouto meeting them with a soft smile and outstretched hands.

At this point, the three settle down on the small two-seater sofa that's set beneath the window near the woman's bed. Or, well, Shouto and Hitoshi sit down and, before Izuku can say a word, they tug him down with them so that he ends up sat partially in both their laps, across one of their thighs each, bright red and burying his face in his hands even as they both loop an arm around his waist, smirking to each other in victory. Rei simply muffles a laugh at their antics.

But then she takes pity on Izuku by distracting his boyfriends with questions,

"So how do you all feel your exams went? You had the last of them Thursday or yesterday, didn't you?" And everything flows from there. The teens talk about lessons and their friends and give great detail about some of the more chaotic exploits of their class, picking out some of the funniest and easiest to explain from the very, very long list of options. Rei is engaged and clearly happy, eyes shining as she looks at her son and his partners. Now and then she'll reference some other story or detail that Shouto's told her before, keeping the conversation more interactive, and they all grow more comfortable and relaxed by the minute.

However, they're interrupted after barely more than an hour by the knock and entry of one of the nurses.

"Rei-san, your appointment's been moved- Oh, hello, apologies for interrupting." The woman smiles at the three boys but turns her attention back to Rei.
"As I was saying, Doctor Nagisa has had an opening for twenty minutes time and thought you'd like to take it. We'd be able to move up your paperwork by a day or two if all goes well."  Whilst that doesn't mean much to Hitoshi or Izuku, they feel the way that a buzz of veritable excitement seems to shoot through Shouto and, after a few seconds, realise what the nurse must mean. Rei is meant to be discharged from the hospital in the next few weeks, provided all of her psych assessments are passed which, judging by how she has long since recovered from her mental breakdown, if perhaps not every symptom of her long-term abuse, shouldn't be an issue at all. She'd be able to move in with Shouto and Fuyumi. To go home.

The nurse is still talking to Rei when they focus back in,

"-but if you're busy now, we can just as easily stick with your original time."

"Don't do that on our part Rei-san!" Izuku blurts out, feeling Shouto instantly relax a little beneath him. Or beneath his left side. Whatever.
"Really, we can come and visit you any time but doing so will be even easier if you're home sooner, so please go ahead! We honestly don't mind." Hitoshi nods along,

"Gree- Izuku's right, Rei-san. Shouto wants you home, so we do too." And oh, they hadn't meant to make her tear up again.

"Thank you Kushina-san, I'll take that opening today then. Will it still be in Room C-7?" she addresses the nurse, flickering one more grateful look to the three.

"Yes, it will. I'll let Doctor Nagisa know."

"Wonderful, thank you very much." With that, the nurse departs, offering a far brighter smile to the teens, apparently impressed by their thoughtfulness. Honestly, they only care that Shouto is visibly happier. That's what matters.

"We'll leave now Mum, unless there's anything else?" Shouto asks, nudging Izuku fully onto Hitoshi's lap so that he can stand.

"Oh, no Shouto darling. You three run along, make the most of a free day. You all work more than hard enough to deserve it; Izuku-kun, Hitoshi-kun, I'll look forward to seeing you again?"

"Sooner rather than later, hopefully!" Izuku chirps as he stands up, no saccharine sweetness to it, just genuine kindness. He likes Rei. She- Well, she reminds him of days long gone. People long gone. 

"Definitely. It's been lovely to meet you Rei-san," Hitoshi continues, offering her a short bow.

Rei only opens her arms for another hug, albeit a far briefer one this time. Then Shouto gets a longer hug, the woman carefully smoothing fingers through his fine hair, the motion repetitive and practiced. From the way that Shouto melts so easily, it probably is.

With that settled, they leave the hospital, only to end up sitting in the park down the street, trying to figure out their day.

"What do you two wanna do?" Hitoshi asks,
"We've got plenty of time and options."

"It probably depends on how much energy we've got for social interactions; the class will still be at the shopping centre if we wish to join them," Shouto comments, pulling his phone out of a pocket.

"Oh, that might be fun. And we could get lunch there!" Hitoshi, in lieu of replying, also digs his phone out, opening up the class group chat.

Izuku, feeling impish and restless, immediately steals it.

   {insomn-i-am changed their name to MintLover}

PrettyThermostat:  [Izu, give Hito his phone back.]

MintLover: [Tell me that in person you coward. You're literally sat next to me.]

               : [Well, not any more.]    Izuku adds on as he dances away from Hitoshi's reaching grasp, heading towards the nearby trees.

PrettyThermostat:  [No, you'll do something.]

                           :  [I don't know what, but something.]

MintLover: [You fucking bet I will.]

               : [And no. He'll just change his name back. It's too accurate to change.]

KirbyBeFloats: [Don't you just love when they forget anyone else is around and are just adorable?]

Dwayne: [Hell yeh I do! So manly!]

Izuku nearly falls out of his hastily-climbed tree because this is embarrassing. Very, very embarrassing. Ah, why do they always do this, like the idiots they are, exposing their fluffy stupidity to the rest of the class?

MintLover: [What! No! Don't say that!]

ASSqueen: [they bes being v cute]

DumbassPikachuMeme: [Relationship Goals (TM)]

PrettyThermostat: [Izu, don't you dare fall out of that tree.]

MintLover: [I'd be fine!]

PrettyThermostat: [...Fair, you probably would.]

                           : [But you'd give me and Hito heart attacks so don't.]

MintLover: [Fine.]

Their back-and-forth gets interrupted by Kirishima, giving Izuku the chance to make sure he's higher than Hitoshi would be able to climb. He's safe. There are some advantages to still being short and barely at-weight for said height.

Dwayne: [hey, what you three doing anyway? thought you were visiting a parental unit or smthn.]

MintLover: [We had to leave early.]

               : [When you guys getting lunch?]

SANIC: [We're meeting up to eat in 32 minutes Izuku-kun!]

MintLover: [ Ah, coolio thanks. We'll probably meet you then? It's only like a twenty minute train ride]

SANIC: [That would be an excellent opportunity for further bonding!]

MintLover: [Take that as a yes then.]

               :  [We'll be there.]

PrettyThermostat: [If Hitoshi doesn't murder Izuku over his phone-stealing ways first.]

ASSqueen: [Yayyy!!!!!]

DumbassPikachuMeme: [See you soon guysssssssss]

KirbyBeFloats: [Cool beans. Don't die Izuku!]

Izuku switches Hitoshi's phone back off to peer down at where his boyfriend is glaring up at him. The whole half-pout, half-scowl is honestly adorable. Definitely drowned kitten vibes.

"Hey, Toshi, catch!" 

And Izuku leaps.

Hitoshi, despite his grumpiness, immediately reaches out to catch him, but they both would've fallen if not for Shouto dashing forwards and supporting Hitoshi too. As it is, they lean back dangerously far before Izuku pulls back enough to counterweight them, giggling all the while. And when their little gremlin is laughing so freely? Well. The other two certainly can't stay annoyed for long, merely exchanging long-suffering glances before pulling Izuku close in between them until he calms down.

"You're such a little shit, Green bean."

"You two's little shit."

"I'll give you that," Hitoshi grumbles, all too obviously half-hearted in his grouchiness. And the last of it fades when Izuku, smile still wide and bright, peers up at him from where he's chest to chest with Shouto, curls pressing against Hitoshi's sternum, caught in between the circle of their arms and bodies. Huffing, the taller boy leans down enough to press a couple of kisses across Izuku's forehead. They're both smiling by the time Shouto gently butts Hitoshi's head away to do the same.

Once Izuku has calmed down and they're stood, just holding each other close, for a solid few minutes, Izuku starts wriggling,

"We gotta go catch our train. The only other one's in forty minutes or something, I think."

"How do you even remember all the train times for the whole area?" Hitoshi laments as they finally pull away from each other, if only far enough to still hold hands as they leave the park.

"Eh, gotta do something after a three-am shift when I'm still restless."

"Huh, I guess."

"Do you always patrol with Aizawa-sensei?" Shouto enquires, looking down at Izuku with an expression bordering on concern. Understandable, arguably. Although Izuku thinks it's a bit misplaced. It's probably a good thing he isn't telling them about, for example, having had a gun to his head last night, with several bullet scrapes still adorning his arms and legs today, all treated by his Dad. They'd only worry. Well, more than they already might.

"Nowadays, yeh. I used to go solo sometimes, but I'd usually meet up with Eraserdad at least half the time. We became known as a bit of a duo in the local underground."

"Is that why you know that detective? Tsukauchi, wasn't it?"

"Yeh! Oh, we had the best fun last night! So, the local station is kinda low-key traumatised by us three being chaotic, right?" And so Izuku spends the walk to the station, and the first ten minutes of the train ride, rambling to his boyfriends about some of the Chaos Trio's antics. It earns some snorts and outright laughter, so Izuku's content.

Later, they're instead smiling because of the mess of nineteen teenagers trying to order food and sit down. Well, mess is an understatement. Some of them are comparing purchases,  others eating, on their phones or, quite simply, chattering away, all settling around three large tables in the far corner of the food-related floor. Everyone had greeted the three with smiles and laughter, beckoning them to a few saved seats at the far table.

Ten minutes larer, it's the faintest sound of rushing air that has Izuku moving.

"Izuku-!" Tsuyu cries out, the first to see why, but Izuku has already sprung to his feet, half-turned to face the person who, before the teen can do anything else, has latched a hand around the his throat. But Tsuyu's shout has at least caught the whole class' attention immediately, as they all stand up, ready to fight.

But there is only Izuku being turned back around and dragged back two paces by Shigaraki, a pale hand digging into his neck.

The greenette, for his part, doesn't even look scared, fierce eyes scanning their surroundings, likely checking for any other villains, looking over each of his class in turn, not an ounce of fear or hesitance in his gaze. That, in itself, reassures them a little.

"Ah, the guild of 1-A. I thought I'd come on a side-quest and have a little chat with you all. Did you miss me?" The rasping voice has several people shuddering, harking back to the USJ.

"Why are you here? Let Izuku-kun go!" Iida demands. But the moment he goes to take a step forward, arms chopping, Shigaraki lowers his fifth finger a fraction. Everyone freezes up. Beyond them, in the rest of the mall, the civilians continue on, utterly unaware of the threat in their midst. The group of standing teenagers, all facing one direction, should attract attention, but they're in the corner of the fourth floor, so for now they go unnoticed. Arguably, that's better. Less chance of an innocent unknown with no training getting involved at least.

"I'm only here to chat. Maybe I won't even hurt your little Nomu-killer here." The class remain silent, paralysed. What can they do? Shigaraki is less than an inch from disintegrating Izuku's throat. Even if he didn't manage to kill him, it would be gruesome, painful, and would probably scar. Their friend didn't need more scars from this particular villain. The USJ might feel forever ago, but it's been mere months, truly very little time at all, and none of them will ever forget the sight of their classmate blood-soaked and fighting to breathe.

So they can do nothing but stare in horror, unable to hear with the quiet volume but loud background noise of the mall as Shigaraki leans in close to Izuku, crooning in his ear,

"You've made quite the stir in the underground, haven't you little Hemlock? Your defiance of society could almost be called villainous. Blackmailing the government? Tut, tut, tut." Izuku can't help but tense up, because fuck that isn't a good thing for the League to know, even as Shigaraki straightens up again, hand flexing. The added pain snaps Izuku back to himself, trying not to choke. Right, now isn't the time to worry about that. No, right now he needs to-

"So then brat, tell me: why is Stain more popular than us? What did he have that we don't to have two factions even from prison?" His louder tone carries to the rest of the class, for all that his words are clearly still aimed at Izuku. Banter time.

"I mean, some actual skills, for a start? Is that really what you want to know? I thought it was kinda obvious." Several of the class start at Izuku's nonchalant mockery, opening their mouths to stop him, but they don't dare interrupt Shigaraki,

"No! You're such an NPC, you don't understand at all... Dammit, I have questions, so give me answers!"

"Well, why didn't you just say so?" Izuku retorts and Hitoshi steps forward at that, opening his mouth to speak, to try and redirect Shigaraki's mounting anger.

"Hey, it's Shigaraki, right?" he pauses, hoping for an answer, but goes on when the man only glares at him,
"Why don't you ask all of us? We'll try to help if you don't hurt our friend. Please?" And Kami, it almost physically pains him to speak so politely to the villain with a hand wrapped around his boyfriend's throat, but if there's a chance it might help...

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, I don't care about any of you! It's this one who will have the answers, isn't it little Hemlock?" And fuck, none of that registered as a response...

"Ooh, you know my hero name. I'm impressed! Go on then, as a reward, I'll answer one of your questions properly. Make it a good one!" Izuku taunts. Better not to bring up the first little bit in front of everyone. And whilst Shigaraki scowls fiercely, it does seem more thoughtful than furious. Kami knows how.

"Why do people not understand our goals? Why don't they flock to us as they should? They-"

"Really Handjob, you had to be greedy and ask two questions? You could have just sent me a letter or something if it was going to be an entire interview!" Izuku reaches up and pinches the villain's wrist gently, mockingly. The class, all frozen in horror, suddenly gape at Izuku. None of them expected him to just- just do that.

"You NPC! You're really trying my patience; you'd all  better listen to me, or your friend gets it!"

"Oh yeh? And what are your demands? Want a dummy to suck on? I mean you clearly need some chapstick and mouth wash, but I don't think you know what they are."

"You brat..." Shigaraki growls, hand flexing around Izuku's throat. The greenette doesn't even flinch though, only widens his Cheshire grin and twists his head a little to look the villain in the eyes. Shigaraki doesn't notice him signing for the class to 'get the crowd out of here, on my signal'.

"Oh, brat, huh? Want me to say 'choke me Daddy'? Because that's kinda gross, gotta be honest."

With a shriek of rage, Shigaraki twists Izuku around to throttle him with both hands, but the moment that his grip shifts, the shorter is ducking, pivoting, and brings up a lightning-quick kick that easily nails the underside of Shigaraki's chin, snapping his head back and, as the villain struggles to comprehend what is happening, Izuku does two things.

One hand whips behind his back - beneath his hoodie, for those that can see - and pulls out a wicked sharp knife which is promptly jammed into wrinkled flesh, right at the base of Shigaraki's fingers. In the drawback, Izuku neatly grabs onto two of Shigaraki's other fingers and bends them back until they crack and snap, now hanging limp and crooked. That's one finger severed, two half-attached, and two more thoroughly broken, only in place from flesh and tendon. Good.

Izuku, whilst doing this, has lost his Cheshire grin, instead glowering with a grim expression, bloody knife at the ready, heedless of the spatters decorating his skin and clothing. He can't let his guard down.

Admittedly, Shigaraki is currently busy howling and cursing a few metres back, his hands drawn in close and blood dripping from his lip, but Izuku doesn't trust it. He might try to attack any second. And whilst Izuku is fairly sure that his friends and classmates are ushering the crowds away, to safety, he refuses to take any chances. His Dad will flip if he gets hurt. Plus, he doesn't have anything to tie the bastard up in, so he's going to have to try and keep Shigaraki physically contained until police or his Dad or someone turns up, which will hopefully be before- Shit!

Just then, the dark whirl of one of Kurogiri's portals comes into existence, swallowing up Shigaraki, even as Shouto and Hitoshi are racing to flank Izuku, and there are the voices of their other classmates behind them. But then Shigaraki is completely gone - Izuku's last-second thrown knife that had been embedded in his shoulder going with him - and it's too late. 

"Well, that was a thing," Izuku croaks out. Hitoshi and Shouto turn to him, snorting in disbelief, even as they both crouch a little to examine his neck.

"You alright green bean?"

"Think so," he offers, reaching up to tenderly probe at his throat. It's sore and undeniably going to bruise, but the grimy, greasy feel is worse. Before he can say anything else though, the entire class comes swarming around, all asking questions and commending him and reassuring him. It's too much, honestly. He doesn't take a word of it in until someone says,

"Aizawa-sensei is on his way now, said he'd be five minutes. And the police are already here. I guess they're just coming up to this floor now."

That snaps Izuku back into focus. He immediately heads towards the stairs, glad that the class easily part for him, and that Shouto and Hitoshi stay close and warm on either side. He scans the uniformed officers, looking for that particular hat and jacket that mean- there!

"Tsuka!" he yells, voice cracking in the middle, the final straw on his aching throat, but the man is still immediately shoving his way through his colleagues, making a beeline for Izuku.

"Kid!" he returns, and catches the teen with only a small stumble when he limpets on as he usually would his Dad. A careful hand comes up to ruffle his hair, the other settling low on his back. Supporting him. Izuku can't help but lean into the touch, burying his face into the detective's neck, before squeezing tight and dropping back to the ground. Even just that had helped.

"You alright Kidilante?" Izuku barely even registers that Tsukauchi has defaulted to his vigilante name, too focused on being relieved and itching for his Dad to arrive quickly.

"M-more or less," he replies verbally, barely understandable, then switches to sign as his throat grates and burns,
'It was Shigaraki. He wanted something - answers of some sort. Advice even? I don't know. We stalled, then I made an opening and took it. He nearly got me Tsuka. He- he had his hands around my throat. Could've killed so many people.'

"Fuck, kid. But the blood isn't yours then?" And Izuku looks down at himself, realising that his hands and front are spattered in blood, some patches big enough to look like he was the one wounded.

'No. Took off one of his fingers. Broke some of the others.'

"Good job then kid-" Izuku loves that Tsuka doesn't flinch away from dirty underground tactics "-is Aizawa aware yet?"

'One of the class has called him. He'll be here soon.'

"Good. You alright to come talk through everything with us?" Izuku simply nods, leading the detective and his colleagues over to the bloody seating area where everything had happened, blind to the incredulous, worried and aghast gazes of his classmates.

Nor does he notice that some of the police officers are muttering between themselves about how 'this can't be Kidilante?' but then 'the clue is in the name' and 'he's practically Eraserhead's protégé anyway, right? makes sense if it's one his students' but 'they're only first years' and 'Kidilante's been active for like three years, right? that would make him twelve or thirteen when he started? my son's fourteen and she can't handle a spider in the bathroom!' until Tsukauchi rounds on the bewildered officers with a pointed look and they all hurry away to start putting up a police barrier.

"Oi, Tsukauchi, Eraserhead's here!" But the call is redundant as the hero has already swung his way over the floor's balcony and is storming over to his class, gaze burning crimson.

"Is Izuku hurt? Are any of you hurt?" he instantly demands, scanning the crowd of his class for his kid that he can't see why isn't- But then a body slams into his back and he easily catches ahold of his kid's legs, instantly relaxing.

Until he notices the bloody hand now clinging to his top.

"Kid? I swear to fuck if that's your blood-"

"Aizawa, it's fine. It's Shigaraki's. Kidila- Izuku got a bit throttled, so he's not speaking right now, but otherwise he's physically fine," Tsukauchi interrupts, having followed Izuku over, smiling a little at the grateful look said teen throws him.

"Sensei, it was awful-"

"Shigaraki was-"

"We were only meeting up for lunch-"

"Sensei, he-"

"Izuku was really cool-"

"It was so scary-" Aizawa flares his Quirk again for a second.

"Everyone, hush. One at a time please. Shinsou, Todoroki, I thought the three of you were busy visiting Rei-san?"

"We were sensei, but we had to leave early so we came to meet up with  everyone for lunch instead. I think Izuku messaged you?" Hitoshi explains, a deep frown marring his face. He's clutching Shouto's hand, their gazes fixed on Izuku who still has his face buried in Aizawa's capture scarf, green curls and blood-spattered limbs all they can see.

"Alright, thank you. And could one of you please explain what exactly happened? As much detail as possible." After a moment's silent hesitation, Todoroki gently nudges Yaoyorozu and she steps forward with encouraging nods from her classmates.

"We had all sat down with our food, spread across three of the tables, and Izuku was along one of the edges of our group, with his back to a wall. But then I think he felt Shigaraki behind him, or maybe heard one of the portals, because he jumped to his feet. But it was- it was too late because Shigaraki already had a hand around his throat and- and Sensei none of us could do anything, else he would have killed Izuku! And when Shinsou tried stepping forward, tried talking to him, he only held on tighter and stepped further away from us. None of us would be fast enough to stop him, so we just tried to keep him talking. Well, it was pretty much all Izuku. And then Izuku began to- to provoke him, I believe. Yes, he definitely provoked him-" The whole class either shudders or grins at the memory of 'choke me Daddy' ,
"-and when Shigaraki tried to properly strangle him, Izuku got out of his grasp and kicked him under the chin, then, well, he cut off one of his fingers - the middle right I think? - and broke the index and middle from his left hand too whilst we started to get the crowds away. Todoroki and Shinsou stayed close though, in case something more happened, but all that happened is that Shigaraki got warped away. I think Izuku threw his knife after him at the last second too?"

Aizawa taps against his kid's leg in question, prompting Izuku to nod against him, then simply pats his Dad on the right shoulder.

"Got him in the shoulder?" Another nod.

"Good job kiddo. Might help stretch thin whatever healing they have at their disposal."

"'xac'ly," Izuku mutters against his neck, voice hoarse. The pro has to resist the urge to growl at the painful sound. Fuck, his poor kid.

"Alright you lot. You handled it very well, considering the situation. Hostages - even when they're capable - complicate villain incidents massively, so keeping calm and minimising damage as you did was the best thing you could have done. Do any of you have anything to add to Yaoyorozu's account?"

"Uhm, sensei, the way Shigaraki was talking, it made it seem like he was jealous of Stain? He was saying stuff about 'why was Stain more popular than us? why did he have that we don't?' and 'why don't people follow us'- no, sorry, uhm, it was 'flock to us'. None of us really got the chance to answer or anything, 'cause we wanted to get Izuku and the crowds safe, but, well, that seemed to be what he was after," Jirou reports. Aizawa nods in understanding,

"Right. Again, hellspawn, you did well."

He doesn't miss how most of them slump a little in relief at that. Silly brats.

"For now, I'm going to come back to UA with you all - I know it's the weekend, let me finish - and we'll contact your guardians to pick you up from there. Anybody who lives alone or without consistent adult presence, I'd ask that you stay with one of your classmates for tonight. Your guardians will still be made aware of the situation regardless, but I'm not having any of you by yourselves right now, understood? I'll let you decide amongst yourselves who's staying where. I'll be back in a few minutes. Stay put."

He leaves it at that then, turning with Tsukauchi to ferry Izuku back to the other police officers where Sansa is holding an evidence bag with a finger in it. Charming. 

Just over an hour later, 1-A is sprawled throughout one of the outside courtyards, mutedly chattering amongst themselves. Ashido, Kaminari and Kirishima seem to be bickering though, eventually culminating in her springing to her feet and trotting over to Izuku's little group.

"Izuku, you don't have to answer me, but why did that police officer call you Kidilante? And you hugged him like you do Aizawa-sensei!"

Bleary green eyes blink up at the pink-skinned girl from where Izuku is curled up against Shouto's warm side, fidgeting hands buried in Hitoshi's wild purple locks where the taller has head pillowed on Shouto's lap. He's clearly exhausted from Recovery Girl healing up his throat, but he's still awake. And now he hesitates, looking around at the class who have all clearly heard the loud girl's question, yet the worst expression to be found is curiosity. And Bakugou isn't here, so...

"I- You know how Dadzawa mentioned that he had a vigilante work partner when we were all discussing internships, back after the Sports Festival?" There are a round of nods, although they're clearly confused by the seeming tangent.

"Well, that vigilante can't be arrested because he's Quirkless. He's been operating for over three years now, and has been helping out Eraserhead regularly. Present Mic referred to him as Kidilante one day, which he overheard, and it stuck. Hence knowing Tsuka and a few of the other officers."

And even though he has talked around it, it's pretty damn obvious what Izuku is trying to say.

"Green bean, you did a better job when you told us," Hitoshi snorts, adding with a sly grin,
"And that was still a mess."

"Sh-shut up Toshi! It's awkward, okay? People know Kidilante as this sarcastic kick-ass who does flips off of fifteen-story buildings at two in the morning, not Quirkless Midoriya from the hero course!"

"People know Kidilante? I've never heard of him! You? You know what I mean!" Kaminari cries, a little confused.

"I did make it my hero epitaph! But, uhm, yeh, I stay pretty anonymous. Most of my cases are in Eraserdad's or Tsuka's name 'cause we mainly work together. Sometimes Nedzu-sensei's or Hemlock's, now. I don't tell victims who I am, so only people I've worked with or beaten up know who I am, and sometimes not even then. But I bet in the local prisons my name is quite commonplace!" And Izuku should not sound so cheery about that.

"Izuku-kun, whilst I can commend you on your heroic spirit and acknowledge that you are technically within the law, surely there were better choices than becoming a vigilante at the age of- twelve?"

"Not really Iida. I'm Quirkless. I don't get choices, except shitty ones. If Nedzu hadn't managed to change the admission policies for the hero course just over a year ago, after eight years of trying mind, I wouldn't have even been allowed to apply for UA, except the Gen Ed course. Most hero schools I still can't. There's a lot of discrimination about. And I didn't actually intend to become a vigilante in the first place!" Izuku protests, flushing.

Shouto casually catches his flailing hands and threads them back into Hitoshi's hair.

"Wait. You… didn't intend to become a vigilante?" Izuku doesn't even register who spoke, too caught up in his own head. He's not sure if he regrets telling the truth or not. He doesn't like being the centre of attention, of his decisions and secrets being exposed, but he allowed this to happen, he chose not to lie, so here he is.

"No! I accidentally helped a mugging once. And then I interfered with some random pervert. And then like a week later I stopped somebody from trying to sneak up on Eraserdad and it just kind of snowballed until I had a patrol route and a name and some weapons and a costume and then I was helping Tsuka and Eraserdad with analyses and trafficking rings and I'd patrol most nights and it all just kind of happened. I felt useful for once! I could do something, you know? And Dadzawa would give me food and knives and my bo staff and they'd both try to stop me drinking coffee so I'd just steal theirs and it was all a thing and there was no way I could stop and now here we are and I'm rambling oh Kami please don't hate me or anything because you guys are all really lovely and you actually liked me for some reason and now I've probably fucked it all up-"

"Izuku, Green bean, breathe for us," Hitoshi interrupts, sitting up and turning to firmly tap twice at Izuku's collar bones. And the greenette gulps, then takes a few proper breaths, before shuddering and shifting to bury his face in Shouto's shoulder, one grabby hand latching onto Hitoshi and tugging him close too, until he shimmies over the heterochromatic boy to instead plaster himself along Izuku's back.

Once the three are situated, Izuku quiet and calming down in between them, barely visibly to their classmates, it is Shouto who first speaks up,

"Izuku has trusted you all with this information. Please respect him. He is exactly the same person you all knew before and he likes you all very much. Treat him differently for this or spread it around, we will hurt you. Aizawa-sensei may kill you. It would undoubtedly get Izuku targeted if it becomes common knowledge. Please bear that in mind." And holy shit, that sends shivers down the entire class' spines because Todoroki means it, even if he was perfectly polite. And he's right. Aizawa-sensei would absolutely obliterate them if they were to treat Izuku differently. And that he might end up in danger because of them...

A damn good thing that none of them were going to then.

"Nah, it's fine. Actually, that's pretty cool! Our class cinnamon roll is even more of a badass now!" Ashido crows, doing a little happy dance. Most of the class laugh at her antics, and all of a sudden the tension is gone. Izuku, in between his boyfriends, breathes steadily once again. Kami, he loves this class so much.

Chapter Text

Aizawa, for once, is grateful for how Recovery Girl's Quirk saps the recipients energy as Izuku fell into a veritable coma halfway through the drive home. So of course the man fails to stifle a soft smile at the sight of his son snuffling and letting out the odd little snore. It's cute, but honestly rather too distracting for driving through busy Saturday afternoon roads. Well, he's not going to wake the teen up. He'll make do.

All the same, they make it home safely and he scoops his kid up, carefully cradling him close, more than a little gratified, as he always is, when Izuku curls in against him, actually accompanied by a near-incoherent mumble of 'Dad' that obviously doesn't have his heart melting just that little bit more in his chest as he walks slowly up the stairs, awkwardly juggling his kid as he unlocks their front door, clicking his tongue quietly at the cats and making sure to firmly shut the door. From there it doesn't take long to settle Izuku on the sofa, snap a brief photo of all three cats sprawling out over the brat, and head into the kitchen put some coffee on. Sue him, he's stressed. Asui had called him, talking about how Shigaraki had been holding his kid hostage and had gotten away, how he needed to get to the mall now. So he had. Thank Kami he'd been fairly nearby to begin with, only needing to take a five or ten minute run over the rooftops to get to the shopping centre, to check all of his kids were okay, absolutely ready to jump in an ambulance or throw hands if needs be.

He can only be grateful it wasn't necessary.

What he isn't grateful for is how Izuku is clearly unsettled. Fingers crossed, with Chiyo's Quirk he'll be too exhausted to get nightmares for now, because Aizawa doesn't doubt they'll be on their way. It's always situations like this, where Izuku has been at the mercy of someone else, in a position of protecting those he loves, where he's most likely to crumble afterwards. The USJ being a prime example. His Dad, of course, is determined to minimise that breakdown this time.

Hence settling by his kid's feet to catch up on some paperwork, trudging through some of the kids' grade sheets, then police reports and finally a request from said police for the agency to look into a weapons trafficking ring in their area. Which has been directed to him and 'anyone else he desires'. A job for him and Izuku then. Well, at least it'll provide a good distraction for his son, and they can go through the intelligence and data already collected together, see what patterns and suspects they can come up with, then head out to patrol tomorrow night...

"Hey, kiddo?"

"Mm?" replies Izuku. Or rather Kidilante right now, with the two of them perched on the edge of a roof, waiting upon the arrival of the gang members that are meant to be meeting here in about quarter of an hour.

"Reckon you're comfortable sharing some of your history with me?"

"Hmmm," Izuku sing-songs, hiding his flinch behind an over-exaggerated shrug, although Aizawa still doesn't miss it. And fuck, maybe he should've waited longer to mention this, after yesterday's events, but he'd already been planning on it, so, well. Better to get it out there. Make sure his son knows that he's willing to listen to anything and everything. 
"I suppose you've levelled up enough to unlock my Tragic Backstory."

"Oh, you reckon so?" The hero snorts. Well, the kid's still being a brat at least.

"Yep!" Izuku chirps. If he pulls out a throwing knife to keep his trembling hands busy, Aizawa's not going to call him out on it.

"It doesn't have to be tonight - yeh, yeh, this morning, whatever," he shoves in, sensing how, beneath the mask, Izuku is already opening his mouth to correct him with an abundance of snark,
"But at some point, I want to listen to anything you want to share." And that does have his son freezing for a moment, stuttering in place for all that he isn't actually flinching or scowling, and that alone gives Aizawa hope that he hasn't pushed too far too soon. After four years of knowing each other, after saving each others' lives so many times, it shouldn't be too soon. Yet even now it can feel like he's pushing his kid too much. And that's something he almost refuses to risk. He knows when to stop.

"What I... want to share?"

"Kid, at this point do you really think-" He cuts himself, huffs out a breath as he tries to find less seemingly-accusatory words,
"Iz- Fuck, sorry. Problem Child, you are my problem, and I like it that way. I want to know whatever you are comfortable with me knowing, because knowing about things will help me know how to understand and support you."

"There were too many 'knows' in that," Izuku sniggers. Both of them ignore how it's a little wet-sounding. 

For a quiet five minutes, the two simply sit there, leaning heavily into each others' shoulders, even as the teenager is still flipping and flicking the throwing knife, hand to hand, finger to finger, occasionally throwing it up to catch again. But then Aizawa's phone vibrates, just once, in a padded pocket of his belt and he straightens up.

"They're headed our way in the cams now." At his words, Izuku immediately tucks his knife away, where it won't catch in the light of the moon or the distant street lamps, and shifts back some, so that only part of his hooded head is above the line of the building. Aizawa is already doing the same. They've got a gang member to stalk.

The two traipse home at three that morning, bone tired and a bit aggravated because yes, they had been able to follow the gang member back to the base. But the other gang had then of course turned up in force, starting up a full-on gang war. And, whilst sending out an alert for back-up, the two had to jump into the fray. Because they could have let the villains have it out between themselves, then intervene later and take out the last few from each side, and that had been their tacit plan, what they were going to do.

But then one man had died, then a second, a woman, a third man...

So, sending out that back-up signal, Aizawa and Izuku - Eraserhead and Kidilante - burst out of the shadows and start taking down whoever they can. Nine people are already prone on the floor - four of whom are indisputably dead - but there's another twenty-odd left. More than ideal, but not more than manageable. 

Jumping into the fray, Izuku instantly slams his frying pan into the back of one woman's head and she's out for the count, clipping another man in the elbow on the back-swing, then he jumps and lashes his foot into said man's nose. As he lands again, light on the balls of his feet, he takes a moment to glance over at his Dad. Hm, three opponents, one is a mutant. And so, even as he springs back a step to ignore the chains of his own new opponent's Quirk, Kidilante smoothly draws his throwing knife out of his belt and sends it at the hulking mutant that his Dad is fighting. On target, it pierces into the- damn, the narwhal  mutant's eye - cool - and he falls to the ground with a deep groaning cry that echoes through the courtyard. Izuku has exactly zero regrets.

Fully returning his attention to the chain-whip guy that he's been fending off with his pan, despite half off his attention being across the battle, Kidilante grins wickedly beneath his mask.

"Dayuuum boi, you must be kinky as fuck with chains like that," he taunts, sending his voice salacious and sultry like Midnight, cackling when the villain falters and gives him the perfect opportunity to flip forwards, swinging his legs around the man's head and twisting, butt of his knife striking a temple and kicking away before his leg can get trapped beneath the fallen body.

And so on he goes.

His second throwing knife gets one woman in the back of the knee which, judging by her stone arms, will be enough to keep her out of the way, and he instantaneously takes a running jump, split kicks two more, sending them reeling back into their allies and enemies alike as though they were ugly meat-sack bowling balls and oh Izuku, that was not the way to think of that - gross  but regardless, that's two more down. Izuku whirls as a presence is suddenly at his back, foot raised in a roundhouse, but the thug is already falling away, yanked to the ground by merciless strips of white.

"Thanks Eraserhead!" he calls, unable to resist tacking on,
"Did narwhal like my present?"

"Maybe try giving him a giftcard next year!"

"I'll remember that!"

And even as they exchange banter, Izuku is smashing his elbow into the temple of a tiny woman who has green skin and petals for hair, knocking her out cold, then jumps, ricochets off of one guy's arm, then flips mid-air to axe-kick said thug at the same spot, felling him just as easily. As the teen falls, he twists, catching a glimpse of Dadzawa easily taking care of a couple more emitters.

Just as he lands and begins to bound forwards again, the ringing of police sirens screams out, and there are cries of panic amongst the dozen still conscious although only - hell yeah, there are only four fighters still up and running. Oops, and they're literally running. No thank you!

Izuku shoots out his last throwing knife, taking another one out at the knee. Simultaneously, Aizawa catches two in his capture weapon. Fuck, one is getting away.

"Should I?"

"Better do. Bring 'em back here."

"Mmkay!" Izuku chirps, already sprinting after the man who was fleeing. Fortunately, there was no speed or agility Quirk in sight, and it only takes a few alleys for Izuku to Tic Tac and shoot himself at the escapee. The guy tumbles and rolls, uncontrolled, coming to a harsh stop against the brick wall with a little series of snaps and crackles.

"Mate, are you Rice Krispies or something?" Izuku smirks.

Then sighs upon realising that the villain is unconscious.

"For fuck's sake, really? That was funny. And you missed it; so rude. Aaaand now I'm gonna have to drag your grown-up arse all the way back, aren't I? Dammit. You're gonna weigh a McFrickin' tonne - yep," Izuku wheezes, latching on to the guy's collar and physically drags the man behind him.

As soon as he can see the blue flashing lights again, he wails out,

"Eraserhead! Get your lazy arse over here; I'm not getting paid for this, unlike a certain someone, and this bastard weighs a shit-ton!"

"Quit complaining, Kidilante!" Aizawa calls out as he wanders over, Tsukauchi at his side. With an unseen pout, Izuku slouches against the side of the alley, letting the unconscious thug drop gracelessly to the floor. The detective visibly winces at that and Izuku barks out a laugh in return.

"Can we head out again yet Eraserhead? I've got places to be in the morning you know!" And Aizawa fishes out his phone and immediately scowls. The brat's not wrong -and it's Sunday night, or rather Monday morning already - they have classes in around five and a half hours. Great.

"The kid's got a point Tsukauchi - alright if I send my report over tomorrow? I've got a break or two during morning classes I can get it done in."

"You know what, sure. You owe me coffee though."

"Thank you Tsuka!" Izuku trills, springing forwards to pat the detective's cheek, then stepping away again before the man can swipe at him,
"I'mma get my pan. And knives," he informs the pair, darting away to do exactly that. Twin sighs follow him.

"You two doing okay?"

"Yeh thanks. We'll meet up with you off-duty sometime soon. Without a bunch of dead and unconscious villains everywhere. Or fingers."

"Sounds good to me Eraser. That's a point though, you looked at therapists yet? I know you mentioned it yesterday."

"Unfortunately not. I was meant to ask, but things keep on coming up. It's never-ending. But at least he's trusting me with more details and shit, over time."

"Oh yeah? How bad is it really? I know we've suspected, but..." The pair exchange weary glances, then focus on the kid once more, who's having a brief chat with Officer Sansa. He seems happy enough. Honestly, he probably is right now. Adrenaline always seems to improve his mood.

"Pretty fucking bad so far; I'm expecting it to get worse, honestly when he properly talks about it."

"I bet. Still, at least he's with you now. It didn't need to, but yesterday really proved how much better off he is for it," Tsukauchi reassures, for all that his tone is nonchalant.

"I guess," Aizawa grunts. The detective knows them both too well, not to mention is too well-trained, to miss how the gruff man buries a fond little smile in his capture weapon. It's good to see.

"Right, I'll let you go for tonight. Send that email over to me before lunchtime, please."

"Will do."

And by now Izuku is back, frying pan in hand.

"See you Tsuka!" he calls over his shoulder as he and Eraserhead climb the nearest fire escape to head home.

"Bye kid!" he returns with a grin. Izuku might be a right little brat, but it makes the detective all the more fond of him. Well, most of the time.

Twenty minutes later, they are traipsing into their apartment, making sure to lock the door again behind them. Scrutinising their relative levels of blood stains and scuff marks, Aizawa speaks up,

"You shower first, just leave your stuff outside the door, I'll chuck it in with mine. Don't forget to take you pyjamas in!" he tacks on to the end. It wouldn't be the first time Izuku has done exactly that post-patrol. And whilst it didn't really matter, he would rather his kid not get a cold from forgetting to put on a shirt of all things. Better to just remind him beforehand. Luckily, judging from the kid's freerunning and parkouring on the way home, he didn't have any serious injuries. Oh, they'd both definitely have some bruises and probably some minor strains too, after taking on at least half a dozen villains each. But hey, at least the gang members had also been taking each other out, what with the whole gang war thing. Made their job significantly easier. Still fucking tiring though, particularly after a previous two hours of standard patrol and half an hour of tailing the original member. They'd snuck a nap in before leaving and after dinner, yet it never quite seemed enough on days like today. And he should really stop letting Izuku join him on patrols, but the alternative chaos and pouting would inevitable be worse, not to mention a hundred times more exhausting. Plus it was their main way of bonding, in a weird kind of way. Or perhaps just a 'them' type of way.

Dragging himself from his thoughts, Aizawa heads into his room to shed his uniform. Stripping down to his boxers and donning a pair of old, hole-filled sweatpants that he often uses for the interim between getting home and showering, he grabs Izuku's pile of reinforced hoodie and leggings to throw in the washer alongside his jumpsuit, then tops up the cats' food and water and finally slumping onto the sofa to wait for Izuku to finish up in the bathroom. Before he knows it, his eyes are slipping shut and his head is drooping, a bit more than half-asleep.

But then he jumps awake at the sound of a camera shutter.

"Brat..." he growls, eyes glowing red. A damp-haired Izuku grins impishly, hand hidden behind his back, and has the gall to simply inform him that the shower is free now.

"I wouldn't have guessed."

"Asleep you wouldn't have," comes the immediate retort. Aizawa's too dead inside to continue the banter,

"Hush problem child. Try and get some sleep of your own, if you're so focused on it."

"Sir yes sir!" And they're both asleep by four.

Unfortunately, they're also awake again by seven. Or well, quarter to. And those fifteen minutes seem to make all the painful difference as Aizawa forces himself out of bed, blindly slapping at his phone to shut it the fuck up. Kami, does he really have to teach today, even if it is only recapping weak topics? To which the obvious and immediate answer is yes, but still. More sleep would be good. And, judging by the drawn-out groan of misery from his kid only a few minutes later, Izuku agrees.

"Sorry kiddo, but it's our own fault."

"I know, I know," comes through the door. Whilst his tone is resigned, it isn't regretful; somehow the underground hero fails to be surprised at that. He feels much the same way after all.

By the time Aizawa has driven them to school, they're both ready to sleep, but they drag themselves up through the corridors all the same, splitting up to head to the classroom and faculty room respectively. Arriving in class, Izuku isn't surprised to see both Iida and Shouto already in class, the latter in his seat with the vice president talking animatedly, standing beside him. At the quiet sound of the door, both turn to look at him, and neither bother to hide their winces, although the heterochromatic boy's is accompanied by a soft little smile.

"Midoriya-kun, you appear very tired! Did you have insufficient sleep last night!"

"Uhm, yeh," he mumbles, trudging to his desk. And before he can attempt to come up with an excuse, Shouto asks,

"How much?"

"Maybe three hours? And a two hour nap in the evening. Not too bad honestly."

"Midoriya-kun, whilst I understand that sleep does not always come easily, I must implore to you to rest more! As heroes in training, it is essential that we receive the proper amounts of sleep and nutrition without over-exerting ourselves so as to be at our best for both classes and our futures! I-" The robotic boy cuts himself off as the door slides open once more, to reveal a gaggle of their classmates, all seemingly having arrived more or less together. Izuku takes the opportunity to flop his head on his desk and doze. He can't be bothered to explain they were patrolling.

Nearly three hours later, second period was over halfway done, and Aizawa, just finishing up a re-cap lecture on Hero Ethics, zeroes in on his first target for class discussion. Or interrogation, as some of the hellspawn liked to refer to it.

"Problem child, come up here and answer this," Aizawa grumbles out, glaring at Izuku, who is half-asleep and draped at his desk, pencil listlessly held in hand but not having written much down this lesson at all. Hopefully this will wake him up a bit. And, at his Dad's words, he looks up, bleary-eyed, and proceeds to shamble over to the front of the classroom. His peers watch, a few giggling quietly, as he sways tiredly with each step.

"Mm," he murmurs, unintelligible, as he takes the chalk from Aizawa. Then, without hesitation, he begins to answer the question, his scratchy handwriting sprawling across the board in a distinctly diagonal path, lopsided. Which would be bad enough. But he's writing the whole thing in his fucking code. And, idiots that they are, the hellspawn are all staring at shock. Then, after the fourth line of the seemingly nonsensical symbols and characters, Kaminari suddenly cries out,

"He's possessed! We need to get the spiri-" The rest of his words are drowned out by the resounding outcry from the rest of the class as they join in, standing and pointing at the greenette, all variations of scared, gleeful and confused. Only a few stay seated, but even they look disquieted. After a few long, loud seconds, Aizawa finally spins on his heel to face them all, and activates his Quirk. Almost instantaneously, they all die down into murmurs, sinking back into their seats. Thank fuck.

Although he could have done without Kaminari's,

"Sir - point that at him, not us!"

"Everyone, silence. Izuku, try that again. Less chaotically this time," he adds, rubbing the brat's argument off of the board. At his verbal prompting, Izuku seems to blink awake somewhat, eyes wide as they stare at him with at least some light of comprehension in them. Good. Maybe this time...

Izuku turns back to the board, and starts off on what seems to be a perfect answer. Barring one minor thing. It's also in perfect English.

"For fuck's sake," Aizawa mutters under his breath to himself, before shooing the kid back to his desk and rubbing off the entire board again. 

"To translate that back into Japanese for the rest of us, the moral dilemma of not going overboard on a villain versus knowing that they will not be getting back up in time to surprise you is a difficult one to balance, and one that many professional heroes struggle with, even those who have been in the business for quite some time…" The kids don't need to know that it was the code he was translating from, not the English.

Half an hour later, once Izuku and his friends are sat at the base of their tree, it is Uraraka who questions the still drowsy Izuku on what had happened in class earlier.

"But, Midoriya, what was that? It looked like absolute gibberish! Quite fun, in an unusual sort of way..." she ponders, finger tapping at her chin as she begins to dig into her onigiri.

"My brain just wasn't thinking in Japanese." The tone is perfectly sleepy and serious, if a little blank. Truthful.

"You were thinking?"  Hitoshi questions, half-sarcastic, half-serious. Izuku simply shrugs in return,

"Yeh, that was the problem. And that my brain doesn't like Japanese today. Vibe checked."

"Oookay," the insomniac snorts. He's not the only one that looks amused. Although to be fair, Izuku doesn't seem to care, probably too tired to. A mood, honestly.

And as they all begin to chatter softly and eat as usual, Izuku manages about three mouthfuls of Katsudon bento before he slumps, asleep, against Shouto's shoulder. By halfway through lunch, he's slid even further to have his head pillowed on the heterochromatic boy's lap, Hitoshi bringing Izuku's legs up and over his own lap so that the greenette can be comfortably lying down across the two of them. Hopefully with this, he might catch up on some sleep. If his drowsiness in class wasn't enough, the deep bruises beneath his eyes and the pallid tone to his skin would make it plenty obvious that he's over-tired and needs all the naps he can get. Not to mention how stiffly he was moving.

So, his friends are more than happy to accommodate him. And, well, if Shouto and Hitoshi's cheeks are tinging pink and red at having their cute boyfriend in their laps, then nobody is going to mention it. Well, not where Izuku might wake up if they're too loud about it. Uraraka has already one-hundred percent decided to bomb their phones with pictures and teasing comments tonight. She knows they'll save the pictures; she's counting on it. Maybe she'll send one to Aizawa-sensei too...

Chapter Text

Aizawa and Izuku have been somewhat-deliriously debating the best way to hide bodies since two this morning. It is now half eight. They walk into class, barely before the bell, muttering and signing furiously to each other. The class, for a long moment, simply watch on.

“Sensei, Izuku-kun, I must ask that you cease your conversation in respect for our school schedule! The bell has just gone for homeroom!” Iida cries, abruptly standing up, arms chopping. Neither of the Aizawas are fazed.

“Iida. You’re a sensible person, pre-dug grave or cement foundations?” Izuku asks, although he's still signing something else to his Dad.

“I- what?” Two pairs of bloodshot eyes, both intent upon resolution, bore into the poor Vice President and he wobbles back to his seat, clearly disturbed. The two Aizawas don’t even appear to register his retreat, instead rounding on each other once more.

“Tsuka agreed with me! And he can’t lie!”

“Kid that’s not the way his Quirk works... I don’t think.” They both hesitate for a moment.

“Oh. Fair point. But still! A pre-checked police dug grave still has issues!” Izuku exclaims, pulling a knife out of nowhere and idly stabbing it at the man. Aizawa steps smoothly back,

“Well so do concrete foundations, brat.” A loose curl of capture weapon takes the knife, but Izuku snatches it right back,

“Less so when you take our environment into consideration: we all live in a large city thus there is a lack of easy-access, non-suspicious options for grave plots. Wait-" Izuku cuts himself off with a scowl, thinking deeply,
“-What about a compaction quirk? Even if it were relatively weak, you could at least half the size of the body. Small enough and close enough to time of death, you could give it to a dog or still bury it somewhere and just full on have a lesser chance of having it found. And-“

“-it would be less recognisable. Good point kid.”

Everyone is staring at the two, and continue to do so as both Aizawas traipse into their sensei’s nap corner and collapse on top of each other, not even bothering to get into the sleeping bag.

For a long minute, everyone waits, utterly bewildered, before Izuku lets out an adorable snuffle, nuzzling further into his Dad’s capture weapon, and with a smattering of giggles and coos jolts the class back into awareness.

“What should we do?” Yaomomo asks, hesitantly standing up to peer at the two. As she goes to walk closer, Hitoshi calls out softly,

“Don’t get too close, Sensei will probably wake up. Izuku too, honestly, and we all know they haven't been sleeping. Maybe if we get Mic sensei?”

“That sounds like a good idea. Iida-kun?” The robotic boy nods enthusiastically and strides away, although to his credit he is very careful to keep the door quiet. of course, the instant he’s gone, several of the class pull out phones and start snapping pictures. To be fair, it is adorable to see Izuku sprawled across his Dad, the man automatically curling a protective arm along his son’s back, the two so very comfortable and familiar with each other. Not to mention it will be good blackmail later.

Lunch time is spent with Izuku sat at his desk, slowly working his way through the convenience store bentos he and his Dad had grabbed on the way in this morning. Although he also has one of Shouto's onigiri and two little octopus sausages from Hitoshi. Not that he and his boyfriends dote on each other or anything, no, of course not. Don't be absurd.

"Green bean, please tell me you're actually going to sleep tonight?" Hitoshi asks, reaching across to take his boyfriend's hand. The class is a bit rowdier now, everyone back for the last five minutes before Ethics starts, and the noise feels safe. Izuku accepts the contact with a vague smile, but ends up fidgeting with the insomniac's hand instead, tracing patterns on the soft palm, bending and flexing thin fingers, not looking up at the room when he answers,

”We ended up patrolling four nights in a row, so we’ve been a bit... delirious. But we did take down the trafficking ring last night, and the agency’s insisting Dad take a few days off, particularly after the mall incident. They’ve sorted our shift covers already, the bastards.” The exasperation in his tone attracts a fair bit of attention.

"Trafficking ring?" Shouto asks, joining his warm hand to the bundle of digits on Izuku's desk. And now everyone's paying attention.

"Mmhm. Only weapons though. And we took most of them out Sunday night. And some of a rival gang too. We were gonna leave it, but people started dying, so we went in. Kept it down to five, at least."

There's a long moment when the class stutters to a standstill at that. 

"Five people died?"

"Yeh. S' shitty but-" Izuku is interrupted by one small, but literal explosion at the front of the class, Bakugou rocketing to his feet, but not attacking, for all that he's scowling fiercely,

"WHAT THE FUCK NERD?! What the actual fuck is this shit? You're fucking patrolling with hobo sensei? We don't get inter-"

"Bakugou, I'm a vigilante. Legally so. Shut up."

If the dry tone isn't enough, the knife buried in the wall, quivering, behind the blond, a few of the pale strands swaying to the floor, is more than sufficient to shut Bakugou up. To pause, draw a deep breath. 

"Wait, you're what?" It's no apology, but he's clearly making an effort not to lash out. Izuku, for his part, isn't shaking, but that fact alone would've calmed him down if he was. As is, he's quite calm. 

"A vigilante. It's not an internship, don't worry."

"I wasn't," Bakugou scoffs, derisive. But some of the tension falls from his shoulders and he turns to sit back down. Yet before he can actually sit, he speaks up again.

"Was it because of Auntie?" The low tone could almost be called dangerous but, honestly, it's more strained.

"No. Started nearly five years after, actually."

"Fucking good." And then the blond takes his seat, kicking his feet up and digging out a bag of spicy crisps. Quite cordial, really.

"Izu...?" The heterochromatic boy sounds utterly neutral, but the gentle warmth is there beneath, trickling to the surface. Neither he nor Hitoshi have let go of Izuku's hand yet. 

"Yeh Shou?"

"That was-" Shouto cuts himself off, taking his boyfriend's pleading gaze seriously, and changes tact,
"Are you okay today?" Hitoshi nods along to his question, emphasising its importance to them, yet the greenette only tilts his head a little,

"Why wouldn't I be?" comes the blithe reply. The whole class jolts at that.

"You encountered openings of the dark veil, Izuku-kun. That rarely leaves those privy to it unscathed, particularly in the immediate term," Tokoyami comments, words slow and measured. And despite his peculiar syntax, nobody misses his implications.

"I'm fine. It is awful, and heroes and vigilantes have nightmares and PTSD and things for a reason, but you get used to it. You can deal. It's... okay, so long as you're not desensitised to it. Then you have a problem." The greenette's tone is sombre, almost blank, but there's an undercurrent far too raw to be missed. To be ignored. And if it prompts his boyfriends to hold his hand tighter, resisting the urge to huddle together, then who can blame them?

However, before they can do so, another voice rings out,

"Izuku's right." All of their attention snaps to Aizawa-sensei, the man stood in the doorway, sharing a rare smile with his son, albeit the tilt to it is sad, eyes darker than ever,

"You'd all do well to remember that; if you ever see someone die - ally, civilian, villain, vigilante - and feel nothing, you're overdue a long holiday. One where you get back in touch with people. Where you go out with friends and family and see a therapist and do community work and charity events until you're human again, until you cry over stupid movies or tear up at do-good stories or whatever. If you don't, then you'll lose yourself as a hero. You'll be a soldier. And that's not what we need, not what I'm raising you to be. Soldiers are trained to kill; you're trained to save first, incapacitate second and to kill only as the most final of resorts. Do you all understand?"

The room is heavy with a silence thicker than smog. But then one person nods, followed by another, until they've all acknowledged their teacher and he nods to them in return.

"Well on that cheery note, you've got a lesson hellspawn."

That's where Aizawa leaves it for the day, focusing on their recap lesson instead, but he can tell that his little speech has had an impact, and it looks to be the right one. These kids are exactly that: kids. He refuses to see any of them turned into people who are desensitised to death, to those who would kill without remorse, wouldn't fight to protect every person possible. They're to be heroes, but they'll still be humans, young ones at that, and they need to remember the fact, or at least remember it for each other. Anything less would be an outrageous failure on his part, and he can't accept that. They're his Hell Class after all.

Getting home that night, the Aizawas find an official UA envelope in their mail. The pro, upon seeing it, groans aloud, pinching the bridge of his nose because, quite frankly, Nedzu's an overdramatic little shit.

"Blasted rat, what a waste of resources," Aizawa mutters, but Izuku just blinks up at him, curious.

"What is it? Why'd Nedzu bother sending you post when both of us were in school today?"

"It's your grades kiddo."

"It's my- Wait, what?" the kid yelps, suddenly nervous. Or, well, judging so by the way he reaches for a knife up his sleeve, other hand getting shoved deep in his pocket to hide the shaking, bottom lip bitten to shut himself up. Aizawa, for his part, grins down at his son for a moment, face soft, and gently taps at the brat's chin until he releases his lip. Good, it's not bleeding.

"Kid, you'll have done well. And either way, you put a lot of effort into them, so I'll be proud."  That, accompanied by a heavy hair ruffle, has the greenette leaving his knife in his sleeve and ducking away. Then spinning to stand behind the man, he easily leaps the short distance to wrap limbs around the familiar torso, snickering when Aizawa lets out a massive gust of breath, more than a little winded.

"Brat, your bag makes you like twice the weight." Izuku just continues to snicker, his smirk pressed into the man's neck, tucked into the capture weapon,

"Fight me, bitch."

"Then get off me you little shit," the pro bargains, tone too snide to be fully genuine.

"Hm, nope!"

And if Aizawa is already wrapping gentle hands around the kid's legs to keep him secure, then Izuku won't call him out on it. Not this time at least.

Regardless, he ferries his son up to their apartment, veritably dumping him once in the genkan, but of course the brat lands easily, not the slightest bit unbalanced by his schoolbag, and has his shoes off in time to greet the cats. From there, they all head into the kitchen, Izuku already getting out the cat food, when his Dad drops something hot pink and sparkly on the side. Weird.

"Since when have we had a magnet?"

"Who's to say you've just never noticed it?" The man challenges. And Izuku refuses to take this insult without retort,

"Dad, it's a pink, glittery cat. I'd've noticed it."

"...Fair," Aizawa huffs, 
"Zashi gave it to me this morning. Said I'd need it and, well, for once the idiot wasn't wrong. Don't tell him I said that though, else no dark chocolate for a week." The kid pouts for a moment, before perking up again.

"What you gonna use it for then? What would you put up on the-" Izuku cuts himself off, eyes wide. Because his Dad is opening up the UA envelope and pulling out the papers, leafing past one sheet to get to the second and what if he didn't do well? What if he's disappointed his Dad? He said he would be proud whatever but Izuku could've failed and how would he be proud then-?

A laugh stops Izuku's spiralling thoughts off. The pro is cackling, eyes crinkling shut with the force of it and the true, bright grin on his face; oh, maybe, hopefully, if his Dadzawa is so happy-

"Kiddo, you did so well!" And then Aizawa is pulling Izuku in close, holding him oh-so-gently, yet so very fiercely, against his chest that's still heaving with genuine joy and oh. Oh. Surely this is good, isn't-

"I'm so proud of you Izuku, kid. So incredibly proud of you, you don't even know." No, Izuku really doesn't know, doesn't understand, but anything that makes his hero this happy must be good, must be whole-hearted, so even if the teen doesn't understand his Dad's pride, he can revel in it all the same. It's a good feeling, a warm one, pulsing in his chest like a second heartbeat, in time with the one pressed against his ear. His Dad's proud of him, proud of the work he put in and whatever grades he achieved, and Izuku couldn't wish for anything more.

Eventually, Aizawa pulls away, offering one last hair ruffle and wide grin, and shoves the piece of paper onto the fridge, placing the magnet with a quiet little clack. And so there, pride of place on the white door, is a list of 'S' grades, all in the nineties range. The lowest is ninety-one percent for Modern Lit, but there's a ninety-eight percent for Heroics, Analysis and Biology. Not unexpected, really. Yet damn, an entire set of Exemplary grades is quite something. Is it any wonder he's proud of his brat? 

Chapter Text

Friday, for the last day of term, is miraculously still a normal one, but for Aizawa being texted halfway through the school day by the agency with a request to join a raid last minute. Which, fine, whatever, not like they were both exhausted and meant to be off-duty for at least another day. Or so was Izuku's immediate response, when his Dad calls him during lunch.

"You alright with it kid? I can turn it down."

"Dad, you're a hero. You can go do your job, so long as you come back in one piece; you know the drill. When you got to go?"

"Not until after dinner time. We'll eat, then I'll head out."

"Mmkay," Izuku murmurs, leaning more heavily into Hitoshi's shoulder and smiling when his Dad mutters a brief,

"Love you kid," before hanging up. He hates it when the man gets dragged into limelight investigations and raids because it means that Izuku can't be there, can't help ensure his own Eraserdad's safety and, honestly, there's no worse thought.

"Everything alright Izu?" Shouto asks when Izuku huffs quietly and drops his phone onto the grass. The rest of their group seem to share the heterochromatic boy's concern.

"Yeh, 's fine. Really. Dad's just been dragged into some shitty limelight op - no offense, you guys - and we hate them. Aboveground ops don't tend to be as thorough as underground, for all kinds of reasons, and that means more danger, in many ways. And I can't go," he tacks on, pouting a little.

"Why ca- Oh, they'd try and take you in, right?"  Izuku merely nods morosely, drawing comfort from Hitoshi's arm around his shoulders and the warm hand that settles against his calf, a gentle, insistent heat even through his uniform. His Dad'll be fine, but that doesn't mean he has to like it.

Home that afternoon, once he's shoved the sweet potatoes and fish in the oven to bake whilst his Dad naps, Izuku settles down on the sofa, notebook and pen in hand, and locates the TV remote. Cadaver isn't very impressed when he's shoved off of his perch for the greenette to be able to use the device that he's curled up on.

"You're the one who slept on it, silly love." The cat only flicks his tail and wanders off. Izuku, snickering to himself, starts flicking through the channels, finally settling on one of the handful of hero-oriented news channels.

This is common practice for him. Analysing fights and Quirks from a third-person perspective is different than doing it mid-fight yourself. On the fly analysis is rushed and, whilst largely reliable when you're as practiced as Izuku, isn't always right. And mistakes can be fatal. 

Hence so often going back to the news, to recorded fights, and doing in-depth analyses that give him the practice in noticing little details, in making logical conclusions, until he can do it quickly and without thought, all the better able to combat new Quirks and new villains. Right now, for example, a female hero - Rain Dance, Quirk Hydroboost - is up against a plant-based villain. And she's doing well, using her enhanced speed and strength to grapple with the vines. But then there's a little kid, scared and crying, and Izuku lets out a soft curse at the sight. Civilians make things so much more dangerous.

It's even worse when Rain Dance has to rush in, messy and dangerous, to bodily protect that child. One vine punches into her gut, doubling her over, a second lashing around her wrist, another both of her knees, the final tangling through her hair. She struggles whilst the villain cackles, but she still sags in relief when the kid finally runs away, the villain too caught up in his own victory to even notice. Saying that, her stillness attracts his attention and he smiles, maniacal, and drops her. Except for the vine in her long, loose hair. Glossy and dark blue, it's now in knots and snarls, pulled brutally tight. Painfully tight.

It gets worse when the villain smashes her into a building. He swings her by the hair, a few bloody clumps of hair fluttering to the ground, and Izuku feels sick. Absolutely fucking sick. Fuck, it's awful and Izuku's seen something like it happen before, but it's normally to civilians being attacked and dragged around, not a hero. Not someone with practice fighting people, not someone more than capable of handling themselves in battle.

Not someone like his Dad. 

Izuku stares, near-sightless, as another hero jumps onto the scene, prompting the villain to drop Rain Dancer carelessly to the floor, yet more hair falling away, some with tiny spatters of blood following. It- A sudden switch to a news anchor snaps Izuku out of his daze, abruptly aware of how his chest is heaving, the cats swarming his legs and nudging at his chest, mrowing and purring, trying to comfort him, get his attention. But they can't stop the encroaching panic attack, can't hold him close and give him the weight of knives or a capture weapon and he needs his Dad-  Stumbling to his feet, not even bothering to apologise for the cats he dislodges, he scurries to his Dad's bedroom door and peaks in, keeping his erratic breathing as quiet as possible. 

The man is breathing. Eyes closed, hair splayed out to match the limbs, blanket half-off already, fast asleep. No blood. His Dadzawa's fine, he's right there, and something around Izuku's chest loosens at the sight. Another something brushing against his leg has him jumping, nearly knocking the door, but it's just Caitlin. Just their baby.

"Hey love," he murmurs, soft and breathy. He feels almost faint, but he pushes that back in favour of logic. If he can't go with his Dad tonight, then surely there's still something he can do to protect him, to keep him safe and with a chest that rises and falls and soft smiles hidden in his capture weapon and callused hands ruffling hair and- He just really needs to keep his Dad safe. Really, really needs to.

Shaking himself, he leans down to scoop up Caitlin and hold her close, warm and purring, as he heads back to the living area, idly switching off the TV without looking at the screen again. Irrational, but probably wise all the same.

"What do you think, love? I know he gets headaches, but maybe if I look up styles to help prevent that?" The cat, sweet as ever, butts her head into his chin with a little meow, and Izuku lets out a big breath. Fine, he can do this. He'll help keep his Dad safe and it'll be fine. It will.

"Let's get researching then."

An hour later, Aizawa blinks awake to the sight of his son, curled up right on the edge of the bed, one hand outstretched to latch in the man's shirt. It's cute, but not expected. Definitely makes him wonder if the kid's alright; he's usually comfortable enough to entertain himself, even when Aizawa is going to be heading out without him.

Trying not to move too much, he fishes for his phone on the bedside table, revealing that it's not long until their dinner was meant to be ready. Well, it's only baked fish and sweet potatoes with some leftover vegetables, so it doesn't need attending to per se. He can let the kid sleep a little longer. Accordingly, Aizawa rolls over a little, just enough to be properly facing his kid without dislodging the hand curled in his top, and can't resist taking a quick picture and sending it off to Hizashi and Nemuri.

LetMeSleepAndExpelChildren: [Brat's napping too.]

LowcutHighstrung: [awwww baby broccoli!!!!!!!]

VoiceBeVoicing: [BBY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]

YAGI: [THatS a swEEt pICTURE AizAwa]

YourLastHaw: [Your kid's cute when he's not being chaotic]

LetMeSleepAndExpelChildren: [Fuck.]

And to think he'd teased his son for sending messages to group chats rather than private ones. Honestly.

VoiceBeVoicing: [awww no don't say that]

LowcutHighstrung: [hahaha your softness is being even more exposed]

LetMeSleepAndExpelChildren: [Shut The Fuck Up You Two]

LowcutHighstrung: [noooo i'm his uncle i'm meant to take the piss out of you]

NarutoSkeleton: [Uncle?]

LowcutHighstrung: [ahhhhh yeh well you see-]

Huffing, Aizawa switches his phone back off and abandons it, turning all of his attention to the kid. He doesn't like to wake him up, not when he's sleeping so peacefully, but the kid will only get grumpy if he wakes up alone. And he doesn't want to leave a grumpy Problem Child home unsupervised. Kami knows what kind of pranks the brat would pull. So feeling only a little bad, he reaches forwards to brush a light touch over Izuku's forehead, skimming over the hair that, thanks to a Quirked hairdresser, had finally grown back in fully a few weeks ago, after a good few months of one side being short. Izuku seems happier with it all one big bush again at least.

Even as he drifts that soft touch up and down, curling just beneath the hairline, Aizawa allows himself a little bit of a smile at the kid making a few incoherent noises, tiny mumbles and murmurs that are warm and trusting, childish in all the best ways, nose screwing up, tugging at the handprint scar but highlighting the freckles.

"Mmdad?"

"Hey kiddo, you alive there?"

"Mmhm," the teen gets out, abruptly shifting forwards until he's tucked firmly against Aizawa's chest, curls tickling at the stubbled chin.

"Hello there," he comments, idle and vaguely amused. Izuku just murmurs unintelligibly again. The man grins properly now, only a portion maniacal, and rubs his chin against the kid's head affectionately. Then more vigorously.

"MmfineyehstopIgetit-"  The pro snorts at the slurred mess but does pause. And if he lets out a long, quiet rumbling noise, then it has nothing to do with how Izuku leans further into him for a moment, sighing contentedly, before rolling away, throwing his arm up to cover the green eyes. Overdramatic little shit.

"Did you start dinner earlier?"

"Mmhm. Veg need to go on." 

"Thanks kiddo."  That's good, not too long a wait then, or no more than half hour or so. He'll have long enough to eat the whole meal with his son, thankfully. The alternative would've put them both in absolutely shitty moods, as though having one of them heroing alone, or rather without the other, isn't already doing so.

It doesn't take too long for the pro to usher his yawning kid out of the room so that he can change into a fresh uniform, for all that he only has two in the first place, and he trudges into the living area to find Izuku peering at the bowl of vegetables suspiciously. Just staring.

"What you up to brat? They're not off already, are they? I could've sworn they were only from Wedne-"

"They're vegetables."

"Good observational skills there," Aizawa snarks, although he can't help the gently amused tone that creeps in, even as he reaches over to pluck the bowl out of Izuku's hands and starts setting them up to cook himself. Izuku's clearly a bit distant. But it's not dissociation, so he reckons the teen'll be alright. Worst ways, he could always ask Tsukauchi or one of the two idiots to check in during the raid. If need be. 

Aizawa's promptly dragged out of his thoughts by the kid speaking up,

"Hey, Dadzawa, would you let me do something tonight?"

"What kind of something?" Aizawa asks, reasonably suspicious but still open to hearing whatever his kid’s idea is.

"I wanted to try braiding your hair? I- I know you- it gives you headaches, b-but I did some r-research?"

"Oh?"  Well that’s surprisingly mundane, quite frankly; Aizawa will take it.

"Y-yeh. Would that... not be okay?"

Aizawa scrutinises his kid for a second, taking in the averted eyes and trembling fingers. Izuku isn’t only restless, he’s nervy. This goes beyond the usual general anxiety and need to do something, there's some level of actual panic there, logical or not. Well, that makes his answer obvious.

"Sure kid."

"Thanks!" The greenette chirps, bouncing on the balls of his feet, hands now wringing as much in excitement as in nerves. Good. It's a start.

And so, with a soft huff, the pro settles on the ground before the sofa, sleeping bag padded up as a seat, laptop in his lap, reading over the last of the current data on the place they're raiding this evening. The kid sits behind him, hooking both of his legs over the man's shoulders, feet pressed atop his thighs, toes wriggling beneath the laptop and nearly dislodging it. 

Deft fingers, trembling at first but gradually becoming steadier, surer, begin to work through his hair, gently detangling knots and separating out sections. Aizawa doesn't have a clue where the hair ties come from, but there's a fair few of them as his son begins to braid sections, never pulling too tightly. It's soothing, actually. Sedate even, sitting there in comfortable silence together, Izuku working away with increasing ease, Aizawa skimming over the raid information one last time. And it only takes ten or fifteen minutes for the kid to shift back some and start probing at some of the plaited hair, probably testing its security.

"D-does that feel okay?"

"Fine. Bit weird having the weight of it, but not distracting or tense or anything." Which is true, surprisingly.

"Oh! Uhm, g-good. But if- if you g-get a headache d-during dinner you can take it out."

"Kay, thanks kid." There, keep it casual, noncommittal. Something must have prompted this, judging by Izuku's nerves at the very least, let alone how out-of-the-blue it is, so Aizawa's determined to accommodate him. If it helps his son, he'll go along with it.

Although, to be honest, he actually hasn't got a headache yet, which is already a rarity. A basic low ponytail would normally be enough to make his head hurt with the tension, let alone a bun like this seems to be, judging by the lack of trailing hair, yet it's simply a different weight distribution to normal. Weird, but definitely not bad.

"Right kiddo, let's get dinner plated up," he states, waiting for the legs to unhook from over his shoulders before pulling himself to his feet with a great groan. Kami, he's tired.

He still feels tired an hour later, lacing his boots up firmly in the genkan. His hair's still up in the plaited bun, neat and set at the crown of his head, secure too, and Izuku is fidgeting, all three cats sat to either side of him. Well, at least Aizawa can rely on them to look after his kid. He reaches forwards to rub a heavy hand through his Problem Child's hair, gentling the movement to cup the scarred cheek for a moment, revelling in how Izuku leans into the touch. Sweet little shit. Yet before Aizawa can open the door, a body slams into him, sending him a pace sideways, shoulder bumping into said door, but he just grins and holds the kid close and tight in return, carefully ignoring the trembling hands and tension. The brat won't appreciate being called out on it. And Aizawa knows Izuku will be fine and if he asks Hizashi to check in with the kid regardless, it's because the blond's dropping round some paperwork, obviously. Nothing more, nothing less. Just looking out for his precious brat however he can.

Hizashi whistles jauntily, knocking a distinct pattern that Shouta had taught him over phone only an hour ago, before he uses his key to unlock the Aizawa door.

"Yo, baby broccoli! Your auntie Zashi's here to drop some boring stuff round for your Dad! But guess what?" He isn't phased by the knife that embeds itself in the wall beside him, quivering, instead raising a hand, bag dangling. He doesn't move to take his shoes off just yet.

"I also brought ice cream!"  Still, he waits. Patient, something most people wouldn't think him capable of, to keep the kiddo as comfortable as possible.

"Auntie Zashi?"  Ah, there's that sweet voice, hesitant though it may be.

"Yep!"

"...Hi. Ice cream?"   The man cackles now, carelessly shoving his boots off and bounding into the living area, grinning at the teen who peers at him from over the back of the sofa. Such a cute kid, honestly. Although, hm, Shouta was right, the baby's tense and skittish, green eyes scanning the room before skipping back to the visitor, then scanning again. He's unsettled. Well, he'd better settle the sweetie then, right?

"Exactly that Lil' Listener! I got chocolate and then raspberry 'cause I wasn't sure which you'd like but Shou likes both of them, so..." Hizashi trails off, wiggling his eyebrows in blatant invitation. Izuku's shoulders sag a little, a second knife disappearing back into his sleeve and he picks up Cadaver to follow the blond into the kitchen area. The hero studiously ignores that the laptop on the coffee table is playing police radio chatter and how Izuku's phone is buzzing a lot. No point to calling the baby out.

Almost an hour later, Hizashi leaves again, leaving two half-cartons of ice cream in the freezer and two packets of truly miscellaneous paperwork on the counter for the cover-story. He wants to hug Izuku close and tight, to squeeze all of the anxiety and negativity out of the trembling body, but he can tell the teen wouldn't like it, would flinch and shake right apart, and he won't do that to the baby but he doesn't have to. Although his chest aches with the fact. Poor, sweet kiddo, so worried over his Dad because, yes, Shouta is more than capable, but they'll always worry over each other because they're all family and seeing the baby doing exactly that only slams the fact home once again. The kid trusts Hizashi, but it's not enough right now. He can only offer him ice cream and smiles and a little bit of happy distraction.

"Thanks Auntie Zashi." But, oh. Apparently that's enough for Izuku, judging by how he's smiling softly at the man, head tilted just that bit in hesitant offer. No way the blond's not going to take him up on it.

"Anytime, baby broccoli!" he chirps, grin just that much smaller, softer, more heartfelt than ever, as he gently ruffles the fluffy green mess. Then he waves vigorously, shoves his feet back into his boots, and is gone. 

Izuku is already turning up the police radio chatter that he may or may not have slightly-illegally tuned into and digging out his phone, opening up the class chat once again. He, Hitoshi and Kaminari had been meme-warring before Auntie Zashi arrived, but he'd logged off with a brief 'my auntie's arrived gimme a bit' which had, apparently, sparked an immediate debate over whether he meant Dadzawa's real sister (non-existent, but good try) or Present Mic. Or maybe Midnight? Well at least they hadn't forgotten the grand total of one time Izuku called Mic 'Auntie Zashi' in front of them.

Knife-amonRoll: [It was Auntie Zashi. He bought me icecream.]

MintLover: [jealous]

Knife-amonRoll: [Your mums bought you that fancy ice cream after our exams Toshi, shut.]

MintLover: [make me]

Knife-amonRoll: [Sero, I'm borrowing some of your tape-]

MintLover: [okay, okay, im sorry, i take it back]

ASSid: [whipped]

PikaDont: [dude be whipped]

TapityTape: [whipped man]

Knife-amonRoll: [leave Toshi alone. I'll stab you]

TapityTape: [....that doesn't feel like an idle threat]

Knife-amonRoll: [I'm anxious as fuck, so no it wasn't idle]

                        : [Ignore that]

Fuck, why doesn't he have a brain-to-mouth filter? Brain-to-finger? To hand? Whatever, he needs to get one, but there's too much in his head right now and it probably won't matter. He trusts the class for a reason, so it'll be fine. It will.

PrettyThermostat: [When is Aizawa-sensei due home?]

ASSid: [aizawa's out?]

LeKermit: [Kero, are you alright Izuku-chan?]

Knife-amonRoll: [a few hours yet. the police chatter's got nothing either]

                        : [I'm fine thanks Tsu]

TapityTape: [police chatter?]

PikaDont: [oooh illegal things?]

Knife-amonRoll: [uh yeh ignore that too]

                        : [Please.]

ASSid: [sure!]

        : [you guys can all keep kami's addiction to sherbet licked off of plugs secret too right?]

PikaDont: [MINA NOOOOOOOOOOOO]

              : [YOU PINKY-PROMISED]

ASSid: [...whoops?]

Snickering somewhat hysterically, Izuku looks up from his phone to check the room again. He hates feeling so antsy and paranoid, particularly when he knows he's safe at home, but he can't help it. He's spent too long not feeling safe to be able to relax all the time.

Huh. That's a point. He really does feel safe here, in this little pocket of the world for just him, his Dad and their cats. It's home. A safe haven where bad things don't really happen, or at least nothing serious, and there's blankets and food and space to roam around but still be cosy enough to be theirs and it's something so foreign, in so many ways, yet he's never loved a place more. Not even when he lived with his Mum, probably, because he didn't know what it was to have nothing and nobody, then to have light and laughter and love gradually shown to him until he had a whole family and boyfriends and a class that he would kill for. A Dad that loved so much it could hurt, but any hurt was always worth it because it came from that love and- Kami, he's home. He trusts this space and this man to look after him, no matter what. Maybe... maybe he really can tell his Dadzawa everything. Not tonight, but soon. Soon.

It's that Sunday when Izuku works himself up to it. He and his Dad have some nature documentary on, Izuku idly watching, the man going through some of the last plans for their training trip in a week's time and with no school or training for that next week, it's as good a time as any to have such a heavy discussion, right? Well, he's already gotten all tense in nervous anticipation, and his Dad's noticed, judging by how the pro's leaning into him more heavily, so no time like the present.

"Hey, Dadzawa." The underground hero grunts in return, the sound harsh but Izuku knows the true meaning of it.
"You wanted to hear my Tragic Backstory, right?"  And now the tension lining his kid's limbs makes more sense.

"Only what you wanted to share, yes. And when you wanted to share it."

"And- and if that's right now?" Aizawa taps save and sets his laptop, screen shut, on the table,

"Then I'll turn the TV down or off and listen." Instead, Izuku reaches forward to turn it off in his stead and then, oddly, twists in his seat on the sofa until his back is against his Dad's shoulder. This way they can't see each other's faces, but they are still pressed together reassuringly. If it helps, Aizawa won't say a word.

"If I repeat stuff you already know, or had guessed or whatever, sorry, but I don't think I'm gonna be able to start again if I stop." And, taking those hesitant words to heart and cradling them there, close inside his chest Aizawa simply reaches up with his left hand to briefly scratch soothingly at his kid's scalp, then drops it again, leaving him to his own words.

"So, uh, obviously I'm Quirkless. And when I was diagnosed at four, things went to shit. Everything had been alright before that - I can remember having a few friends, Ka- Bakugou included, and Mum and my father were happy, even if he worked a lot. I think. But then I didn't get a Quirk and my life just- got fucked, I guess," Izuku cuts himself off to laugh bitterly for a second, the sound cracking and wavering already. Contrary to his every instinct to help his brat, to comfort his Problem Child, Aizawa stays still and quiet, glad that Izuku is at least leant against him. He's doing something. But knowing it's enough is very different from it feeling enough.

"My father slapped me around that night, gave me my first scar actually, and was gone by morning. Probably for the better, honestly." And there's that awful laugh again.

"I started getting bullied - left out, called names, beaten up, you know. Shitty shit, but normal shit. But, uh, well, I was six the first time someone told me everything would be better if I was gone." Fuck, if that doesn't make Aizawa absolutely fucking furious. He wants to tear down Musutafu until he finds whichever little shit said that the first time. Let alone the others. Kami, the others. How many? But then Izuku is still talking and he can't afford to miss a word,

"Mum... She tried her best, and she still loved me, but she started working more. And- and all she could do was say 'I'm sorry'. It was never what I wanted - needed - to hear. All I wanted..." Izuku trails off, deep breaths shuddering through his body.

Yet before Aizawa can do anything, his kid soldiers on,

"And as I got older everything just escalated. The bullying got worse and worse. Then- then Mum died. Villain attack at work. I was dumped in a group home - yeh, the same shitty one - and that was that. Do you want to-? I'll just- Uh-" Izuku chokes for a moment, startling the man.

"Basically, I didn't get fed a lot, I was always getting locked up in a cleaning closet or my room, so I learned to pick the locks and also got good at wriggling out of windows that really should be too small. I got quick running from bullies and other kids. I needed more food, so I started dumpster-diving when it got too bad. I couldn't bring myself to actually steal food, not when so many people throw pretty much completely fine stuff away. I would steal medicines out of the home's supplies, but not from shops - most of it was pretty unused anyway. I did have to nick my mask though. Ended up leaving money in the shop like a month later that I took off a drug dealer. I did occasionally break into this dance studio that I used to go to as a kid, I'll admit, but their windows didn't have locks, so it was fair game really. It was good for practicing flexibility and even some parkour-based dance stuff. Uhm, anyway, I still got beat up sometimes, and I was definitely told to kill myself or that I should be a villain or something a lot, and I probably internalised some of that, and I don't even know what I'm saying anymore but uhm yeh I guess stuff was pretty shitty and I've probably been depressed for years but I've got you and Tsuka and Toshi and Shou and the cats and stuff so I'm mainly alright? Uhm, I'm just gonna stop talking now because holy shit, fuck, I just told you all of that and I'm sorry Dad, I'm so fucking sorry-"

"Ssh, kiddo, you did so well, life was so awful to you but you're so strong, it's not your fault, you survived, you've got so many people that love you, c'mere kid, just let it out, hush now, you did so well." And Aizawa nudges and gently tugs at his kid until Izuku turns around and collapses down on the sofa to bury his head against his Dad's stomach, torso in his lap, words barely audible for being muffled in the man's shirt, even as the kid continues to apologise and thank him and mutter meaningless syllables. It's obvious that his son needs the comfort so there's no way that Aizawa won't be giving him exactly that. His poor, poor, precious kid.

Accordingly, he begins to card a gentle hand through his kid's hair, countering Izuku's mumbling with soft platitudes of his own, praising him, reassuring him, not acknowledging the cats when they all come to drape themselves on and beside the kid, purring loudly, and he's incredibly grateful for them because their weight and warmth and noise always seems to soothe Izuku some, now included. And so he'll hold his son close like that until they both fall asleep, curled into each other, feeling safe only for the warmth of a familiar body. Tomorrow will come and some things might change, but one thing won't.

Aizawa really, really loves his kid. Unconditionally and irrevocably so.