Chapter Text
There was a child in the common room.
The word had spread throughout the dormitories like a wildfire. It reached the far corners of the building, unceremoniously jerking students from their midday naps, interrupting study sessions and social gatherings within open doors.
Izuku came out of the first-floor bathroom, blissfully unaware of the awakening chaos. He yawned through his pomegranate-scented hand, making his way to the elevator by the stairs.
Izuku pressed the button going up, idly watching the floor numbers light up as it counted down from the sixth floor. It stopped at the fourth floor for a moment before continuing, and Izuku allowed the noise from the other room to distantly filter into his ears.
Third floor.
They sound excited, Izuku noted somewhat absent-mindedly, looking in the direction of the common room. He could hear the conspiratorial whispers amidst a few voices every now and then, and curiosity of the unknown niggled at the back of his mind.
Second.
Last he remembered, only a few had been gathered in the living room, so either more of his classmates had come down while he'd been in the bathroom, or some had returned from venturing outside of the dorms.
He briefly considered if it was worth checking out. Should he wait until after he comes back down from his room? Word travels fast in a building full of teenagers, he doubted he wouldn’t hear if something new happened by the end of the day.
The elevator dinged and Izuku looked back to the metal doors as it slid open—
Letting out an undignified squawk, Izuku desperately flung himself against the wall.
A fair number of his classmates continued, heedless of the fact that they nearly ran him over in their giggling, excitedly whispering charge towards the common room, barring Yaoyorozu, who paused to put her hands together in apology before hurrying to catch up with the others.
Izuku remained frozen until the sound of multiple footsteps from the staircase snapped him out of his stupor. It was only then that he realized the elevator doors had closed once again and was already heading back up for another trip.
Well. Look’s like that made the decision for him. Izuku sighed and half-heartedly considered taking the stairs instead just as the first person on the staircase came down to the ground floor.
“Hey, Midoriya!”
Izuku turned and blinked, “Oh— hi, Kirishima-kun...!”
“Hah? Midoriya?” Kaminari's voice piped up from somewhere behind the Hardening user before he, followed by Sero, came around into view. He grinned, then frowned when he realized he was standing by the elevator. “Where are you going? The common room's that way!”
“Well, I was going to my...room?” Izuku hadn't meant to make it sound like a question, but the way the guys were looking at him made him feel more than a little uncertain.
“But—! But, don’t you want to see what happens?” Kaminari waved his arms in the air, accidently smacking Kirishima on the back of his head, expression aghast. “Opportunities like this only come once in a lifetime, you know!”
At this point, Izuku was so bewildered by his urgency, he could only stutter, “W-What opportunity?”
Is that what was going on? Did he miss something? Had something happened while he was in the toilets?
“Dude, you’re way overreacting,” Sero raised his eyebrows, elbowing Kaminari on the side. “He doesn’t have to stay if he doesn’t want to.” Sero looked at Izuku as Kirishima playfully shoved against Kaminari’s head as payback. He grinned. “So? How old are they? What do they look like? Did you guys figure out how they got here?”
Izuku blinked and opened his mouth—
“Why ask when we can just go look?” Kirishima laughed, holding Kaminari’s hands with one hand and pushing against his face with the other. “Sorry, Midoriya, for bothering you! We’ll tell you what happens, okay?”
“Um!” Izuku blurted out. The guys all stared at him, and Kaminari used that chance to break out of Kirishima’s hold so he could stand fully. “I don’t…really know what you guys are talking about. What do you mean? Who’s ‘they’?”
“You didn’t get the message?” Sero asked, aghast.
“I…don’t think— I was in the bathroom just a few minutes ago and when I came out, everyone started coming down here…”
“Oh, well then you definitely have to come with!” cheered Kaminari.
In the span of a second, Izuku was spun around until he was facing the way he came, and then suddenly he was being pushed forward insistently, forcing him to take steps or risk tripping on his face.
“W-W-Wait, what are you—”
Sero exclaimed, “We can’t just leave knowing you’ll be all alone in your bedroom! You have to join in the fun, Midoriya!”
“I don’t mind, but why are you pushing me??”
“Because we don’t know if you’re gonna run away!” Kaminari answered.
“But—But, I won’t!”
Kirishima laughed behind them, and Izuku jerked his bewildered eyes to him. He only received a bright, cheery grin in return. Just go with it, it told him.
And, yeah, Izuku knew how boisterous and persistent the Bakusquad members were, so he shouldn’t have expected anything else when he showed signs of not joining in a class activity… But now his eyes were wandering around the empty area behind Kirisihima.
Because wherever there was an excited Bakusquad, their grumpy leader would usually be present, pulled along or otherwise.
“Where’s Kacchan?” he voiced.
“He's sleeping. We were hanging out, next door, and we were gonna give him a couple hours before we bothered him again, but his door was locked,” Kirishima said, sighing. “I knocked and told him about it though, in case he's awake.”
His childhood friend wasn't one for social gatherings, but Izuku couldn't help but wonder if an unexpected guest everyone was excited about would be enough of a curiosity to pierce through his anti-social bubble. Then again, it was a guest, so Kacchan would probably hate having to be forced to greet them.
When they arrived in the common room, they could immediately see that nearly half of Class 1-A was crowded around the couches.
“Everyone, please quiet down!” Uraraka cried out, and the noise finally quieted. All except for one.
A child was crying.
It wasn't sobbing, more hitched breathing and whimpering than anything, but they were crying.
She, Izuku amended, peering through a gap in the bodies and catching sight of a tiny figure standing in front of the TV. The girl was the size of a pre-schooler, maybe younger, but she held a can of pepper spray in front of her in defense.
Now he knew why nearly everyone was standing at least two meters away. Most children didn’t know how irritating pepper is to their eyes and throats when it’s indoors and airborne, so they were likely more trigger-happy than others. If any of them moved forward without diffusing the situation, they would all suffer for it.
“We're not going to hurt you,” Uraraka said softly, slowly folding her legs to squat on the floor. She didn't move forward just yet, her eyes on the shaking can and the wide ruby eyes of the little girl. “My name is Uraraka Ochako. We’re all a part of U.A. High School, and we’re all students training to be heroes. Don’t worry. You're safe.”
Sandy hair drifted into the child's eyes as she stared frozen at Uraraka's kind and open face. It was nearing half a minute when her shaking arm fell slightly, tears beginning to overflow.
Uraraka carefully moved forward and lifted the now actively crying child in her arms, murmuring words of comfort as she rubbed the little girl's back reassuringly. She gently pried the can from her limp hands and Yaoyoruzu came over to grab it, handing it to one of the others but staying nearby.
“There, there, it's all right,” Uraraka soothed. But although the girl was using both hands to scrub her eyes, the rivers of tears continued to flow without hindrance. “Do you mind if I ask you your name?”
As Uraraka comforted the distraught child, Shouji spoke up from his place by the kitchen, catching the others' attention. “Iida went to get Aizawa-sensei,” his duplicate mouth told them. “He should be back any minute.”
Any relief at their teacher coming to help was short-lived when the kid's breath hitched momentarily, choking on saliva before continuing to cry even louder than before.
In a garbled voice clogged with tears, she cried, "I wh-want my da-hddy.”
Yaoyoruzu rubbed her back, “What's your daddy's name, Hayami-chan?” When the girl, Hayami, only warbled out another “daddy”, Yaoyoruzu's eyebrows scrunched in thought, then rephrased the question. "Well then, what do people call your daddy?"
The girl shook her head. Izuku could at least see that the conversation was slowly but surely starting to distract her from her emotional distress.
He looked around at his classmates who were all just standing helplessly in a half-circle around the center stage. Most came for entertainment, but now it was past the point of being comfortable to leave. Not when a lost crying child was in their midst.
“O-Onee-chan says I sh– hu–” she began to say between hiccups, "sh-houldn't give D-daddy’s name to s-strangers.”
That opened a lot of possibilities, some good and some far worse than the others. Yaoyorozu asked gently, “Why?”
“They'll hurt me.”
“Who will hurt you?”
“Th–hic–e bad pe-eople.” More tears started coming. Uraraka bounced the girl in her arms gently, shushing.
“Hayami-chan, you don’t have to worry. Remember what I said?” Hayami didn't seem to be paying attention, so Uraraka gently nudged her chin to face her. “Hey,” she said softly with a kind smile, “Remember, we’re students training to be heroes. We’ll make sure you get back to your father safe and sound. No one will hurt you here. No one.”
Hayami stared at her, hiccupping and whimpering from suppressing the sobs still trying to climb up her throat. But finally, with one last sniff, she turned her wet nose into Uraraka’s shoulder.
It was like a huge weight had been lifted from the room. There was more than one sigh of relief, and Izuku, too, felt like he could have sunk down to the floor.
As if he had been waiting for that exact moment for tension to break, Aizawa-sensei arrived.
The front doors to the dormitory swung open, and in came their class president and their weary-looking homeroom teacher. Aizawa’s gaze was immediately drawn to the center of the spectacle.
The young girl didn’t look up until half of the room chorused with a loud, “Aizawa-sensei!” Still sniffling but significantly calmer than before, she lifted her head and stared at the newcomers.
“Who was the first to see her?” Tsuyu, Kouda, and Shouji all raised their hands, along with Iida. When Iida realized he couldn’t be seen, he quickly moved from behind Aizawa to the rest of the class.
“Iida already told me she appeared in front of you without warning,” their sensei said. The command in his voice was clear: what else?
“She looked as surprised as we were,” Shouji inputted. Kouda nodded timidly beside him. “Once we realized we were all seeing the same thing, we sent Iida to get you.”
“But when everyone started coming down, Hayami-chan got scared, kero. She had pepper-spray before Momo-chan got it.” Tsuyu pointed a finger to the can, sitting innocently on one of the tables.
“We were able to get her to calm down, but we haven’t been able to get much else besides her first name,” Yaoyoruzu told their teacher.
“It is likely she was with her dad last, Aizawa-sensei,” Yaoyorozu said. “She has been asking for him, but she’s afraid of saying his name to strangers because she fears of being hurt. Whoever her dad is, he may hold enough power to risk having his children be targeted.”
Aizawa nodded but didn’t otherwise acknowledge their observations. He was matching the puffy, wide-eyed stare towards him with his own calculating one. He moved forward.
Everyone instinctively held their breath as he stopped in front of Yaoyorozu and the little girl. The little girl who didn’t even flinch at the closer proximity of a scruffy-looking man. Who Izuku was beginning to realize was staring at Aizawa-sensei with not a look of fear, but dawning recognition and a trace of amazement.
“Kid,” Aizawa said. His tone was softer than it usually was, barely noticeable, but there. Izuku wondered if it was the same tone he used for Eri. “Do you know who I am?”
After a pause, Hayami nodded. Vigorously. The surprise washing over the class was tangible. Less on the knowledge that she knew the underground hero, more on the eagerness of her response.
“You know that I’m a hero, then.”
Hayami continued to stare for a bit before she realized he was waiting for an answer. She nodded again, hesitantly this time.
Then Izuku saw something he normally never saw on his teacher’s face. Slowly, one edge of his mouth curved up just slightly, and it was like Izuku was staring at a whole new person with the same facial features of his teacher. It wasn’t forceful, nor was it at all big, but it made a subtle change in the aura surrounding him if you were looking closely.
“I work as a hero and a teacher here at UA, so I have a lot of connections. If you want to get back to your father as soon as possible, you’re going to need our help.” He waited a moment. “Will you trust me?”
Hayami, in answer, just stuck an arm out. The room froze in anticipation as Aizawa stared at the proffered hand— and then another arm stuck out, wriggling towards him.
A few of the class gasped, and Izuku spotted another few lifting up their phones discreetly. Ashido and Sero were among them, wearing large grins on their faces as they gleefully captured the forcefully blank look of their teacher and the subsequent exchange of a child switching from one perch to another.
Aizawa-sensei wasn’t awkward in carrying Hayami, per say, but there was a pause of ‘what the hell is my life’ in his expression alone.
As soon as she was secure, Hayami finally spoke, “Daddy… Daddy says you were his teacher.” She was looking shy now, and Izuku’s heart just melted a little more with the sound of her voice. Someone to the right of Izuku barely held in a whine.
Then it registered.
Teacher?
Aizawa-sensei? Then wouldn’t that mean—
“Your father,” Aizawa said, “Is he a hero, too?”
Hayami nodded, clear excitement shining from the sudden grin on her face. “Yes! Daddy is the best hero! Daddy always works hard and Onii-chan says he’s in the—” she opened and stared at her palm, then slowly pushed down her little pinky and ring finger, then boasted it in Aizawa’s face, “—Top! Top three!”
“W-hat?” Kirishima wheezed, eyes wide.
Around them, most of the class had the same expression on their face. Izuku’s eyes zoned in on the tiny fingers held up in the air and stared. He then jerked his gaze to Hayami, running over and comparing her facial features with the images of the new Top Three in his mind’s eye, barring Number One.
Aizawa had only paused for a second before he asked her, “What’s your father’s name?” Hayami’s mouth opened a little, then shut suddenly as she peeked at the surrounding class. “You can trust us, kid. We all work as heroes with your father. If you want to get back to him as soon as possible, we’re going to need to know his name.”
Hayami blinked up at him, then glanced at the ground. Her eyes and mouth scrunched, then her gaze went up again.
“…Kay,” she agreed quietly.
She grabbed onto Aizawa’s shoulder and lifted a hand to shield her mouth. Aizawa obediently tilted down a little so that she could properly whisper in his ear.
For a young child, she had fine control over her whisper-voice. Izuku glanced at Jiro further up, but her back was to him so he couldn’t gauge her expression. He looked around, along with a few others, until he found Shouji and saw him tilting his head slightly in confusion.
Aizawa, however, had no such reaction. There was a pause as the voice sunk in— and then his expression just…went blank. He lifted his head.
He acknowledged the class with a passing glance but stopped at once on someone just to the left of Izuku.
“Kirishima. Get Bakugou.”
“What— Sensei?”
“Sensei, how is that supposed to—”
“Get. Bakugou.” Their teacher’s voice had already left no room for argument, but when he repeated the second time, impatience leaked through.
As Kirishima turned and left the room, whispers started up. Izuku heard Jirou mutter, “How is Bakugou going to make it any better?”
“Sensei!” Iida raised a hand up high. “What is the purpose of bringing Bakugou-kun in this urgent matter of security!”
“I won’t be answering any questions,” was Aizawa’s only response. He turned his attention back to the girl.
“…I mean, maybe he knows her. She could be a relative, maybe…”
Izuku’s head whipped around. Sato flinched away from him and Izuku startled, forcing himself to relax. “Um,” he said, embarrassed, “Well… Kacchan never said that he had any hero relatives. I don’t think Kacchan even knows anyone in the Top Three that well.”
“Bakugou interned with Best Jeanist,” Tokoyami pointed out from beside Sato, arms crossed. Tokoyami paused, then muttered, “Though perhaps that would be too far-fetched, seeing as he reacted quite hazardously when I brought it up to him.”
Sero whistled and winced. “Ooh, dude, probably shouldn’t have… Bakugou didn’t really have the best of memories at his internship. He was all pissed because he couldn’t get any training done—at least that’s what I heard. We learned to stop asking about it, so only Kirishima knows the details.”
There was a short moment of silence where they internally examined their theories, all with skeptical looks on their faces.
“…So!” Kaminari forced a grin, then jabbed a thumb to where Aizawa-sensei had brought Hayami to the couches. Yaoyorozu was dutifully following, going as far to even turn on the television and switching to a channel that was more suitable for kids. “Who wants to ask? Not it!” He held a finger to his nose.
Izuku had lifted his finger to neck-level before he realized no one else was doing the same. Except Sero, who looked like he was just humoring his friend for amusement.
Jirou shook her head.
In the end, no one left. They were all still too curious about what was going to happen.
It ended up with nearly the entire class spread throughout the common room, absolutely doing their best to remain as inconspicuous as they could in their eavesdropping of the group by the couches.
Yaoyorozu and Uraraka were the only two of the class who were apparently able to hold a conversation with Aizawa and Hayami without receiving a warning glare from their teacher, and it was physically hurting the others to ignore the tiny elephant in the room.
Izuku had to hold back a smile when he overhead some of the stilted, non-sensical, obviously distracted conversations drifting into his ears.
“Uraraka-kun,” Iida said, unable to hold it anymore when Uraraka joined them at the table. He leaned in slightly, chopping away in his anticipation, “What can you tell us about the situation?”
She smiled apologetically. “Not much.”
“What about Kacchan?” Izuku asked, blinking at her.
Uraraka blinked back, shaking her head. “Maybe this is another test,” she suggested. “He and Todoroki-kun had to take care of children once during their remedial course…”
“But then he would have called Todoroki-kun, too, if he wanted to be fair,” Izuku finished contemplatively.
“It wouldn’t make sense, even if that would have been the case,” Iida said. “Bakugou-kun and Todoroki-kun may have succeeded at that time, but it does not over-qualify them for childcare if the best option would be for Hayami-kun to be handed over to the adults.”
Uraraka hummed, leaning back against the chair. She looked towards the couches.
The object of Class 1-A’s curiosity looked to be fully engrossed in the television. Yaoyorozu sat primly next to her, but Aizawa-sensei was still standing, watching the entrance to the other room with all the characteristics of a night-owl.
Fortunately, it didn’t take much longer.
Every single teenager in the room perked up and got out of their seats when they heard the elevator ding, closely followed by familiar ranting.
“—don’t know why the hell I have to be there for if—”
Hayami flinched in her seat at the loud voice. She looked back with her mouth open, and, to the shock of everyone watching, her face lit up. She immediately scrambled off the couch, stumbling on her feet and rushing straight towards—
Towards the most explosively temperamental student of Class 1-A.
Kacchan could do nothing but stand frozen as the three-and-a-quarter-foot child threw her arms around his knees with a cry. His expression was photo-worthy – jaw slack and mouth open just slightly, staring at the now bawling child with something akin to shock and vague horror.
Izuku heard a click.
Hagakure put her phone discreetly behind her back.
Despite the loud display, Izuku's mind was not comprehending the fact that a child was willingly hugging and crying against his childhood friend, raging glares and distant complaints ringing in his head from memories long past.
He pinched his arm hard.
Kacchan was pissed, glaring at the general vicinity of Hagakure's head. "Delete that!" He attempted to step menacingly towards her but the effect was ruined completely when he nearly tripped, having temporarily forgotten about the child still clinging to him.
He realized, upon watching Kacchan avoid touching the girl even just to get her off, his hands a safe distance away and twitching sporadically, that Kacchan was beyond unnerved.
“Bakubro, you didn't tell us you had a little sister!” Kirishima gasped.
“I don't!” he spat, slightly jostling Hayami unintentionally. At least he didn't think it was, judging by how he stopped immediately and clenched his jaw. “...Brat—!”
“Hey—!”
Hayami stuck both of her arms up, staring up at Kacchan with teary round eyes, “Carry...please?”
Kacchan's nose flared as he took a sharp breath.
His hesitation lasted for more than a few seconds. Hayami hiccupped on a little sob. “Please? Daddy...?”
“WHAT THE H—"
“Congratulations in advance, Bakugou,” Aizawa-sensei deadpanned over Kaminari’s screech. “I’ll be talking to the Principal about living arrangements. She will most likely be staying with your parents until this situation will be solved. Until then, I suggest you make the most out of this experience however you can.”
The class stared at him.
“Make it easier on all of us by not going out. Stay here with your child.” And without another explanation spared, left the room.
Everyone went back to staring. Exactly two seconds later, the volume rose in height once more.
Izuku drowned out his classmate's voices.
Kacchan was not speaking, eyes impossibly wide. Izuku knew there were very few things in the world that can render Kacchan silent when he had every reason not to be.
Hayami was crying openly now. Her tiny arms fell as she started screwing her fists against her eyes, making her face even blotchier.
Kacchan closed his eyes and visibly inhaled once more, deeper and calmer this time.
Izuku watched him slowly crouch down. Stiffly, he wrapped an arm around Hayami's body and underneath her bottom and lifted her until she could wrap her own arms around his neck.
Hayami didn't stop crying right away, but she visibly sunk into her...father's hold as if it was her lifeline, burying her face between his neck and collar-bone.
Kacchan shivered imperceptibly, eyes resolutely turned away, jaw clenched.
“So— so are you saying that,” Mineta’s voice wobbled, “that HE, HE already had S—”
The rest of his words were completely blocked out by the tape that trapped his mouth shut and wrapped the entirety of his head, barring a little slit for his nose. It was so quick, the others didn’t have a chance to react to it before the extended tongue and ear-jack knocked him clear into the opposite side of the dorms.
Sero had look of disgust on his face. “If we were to go by her age, Bakugou would have been, like, thirteen. There’s no way an anti-social guy like him would do that.”
Kirishima nodded. “He hasn’t even—” he stopped suddenly, eyes wide like a deer in head-lights.
And like sharks smelling blood, everyone within ear distance snapped their heads towards him.
“‘He hasn’t even’ what, Kirishima~?” Kaminari crooned with a devious smirk. It wasn’t even towards Izuku but his mind still blared ‘danger, danger’.
Kirishima shook his head vehemently, glancing at a distracted Kacchan with a mixture of relief and fright. “It’s not mine to say! But it’s— it’s not what it sounds like either!”
“Ooh~?”
Izuku was strangely interested too, but when Kirishima met his eyes briefly as he searched for an ally, he couldn’t help but give in. “Hayami-chan recognized Kacchan right away, but Kacchan doesn’t,” he offered.
His proposed topic choice effectively redirected the short attention spans of the teenagers and Kirishima’s hunched shoulders relaxed.
“Kacchan’s always rejected anyone who asked him out during school, too, because he was so focused on becoming a hero and he said he didn’t want relationships getting in the way.”
“Aw... I hate the idea of no romance, but that does sound a lot like Bakugou.” Izuku hadn’t even seen Hagakure arrive.
There were more than a few empathetic nods.
“If you think about what Aizawa-sensei said, too,”—congratulations in advance— “it actually all makes sense when you put them together.”
“Speak to us in plain words, Midoriya, we don’t have brains like you guys do,” Kaminari begged.
Yaoyorozu said, “Hayami-chan is from the future.”
The vice-president stood next to Kacchan, patting down the girl’s hair calmly. Kacchan’s form was obviously tense, but he was simply eying her and watching the way she moved her hand.
She announced in the silence that followed, “Aizawa-sensei has advised Hayami-chan to limit what she says about the future unless she’s given the OK, so as much as possible, please respect his wishes.”
“You can’t be serious…” Jirou gaped. Not at Yaoyorozu’s words, but rather what they implied, judging by the wide-eyed look she was giving the child in Kacchan’s arms.
But the continued silence was telling. More so that Kacchan was still uncharacteristically silent all this time, and he was scowling quietly at the ground and refusing to make eye contact. Like he had already figured it out.
Izuku did not doubt that for a second. He probably already made the connection just before Aizawa-sensei left like Izuku did.
“Oh my god…” Ashido murmured. Her voice grew in excitement, “Oh my god, oh my god! Really, Yaomomo?! You’re saying this absolute cutie pie is Blasty’s?! Someone—please, get me water, this is SO CUTE!” She jabbed a triumphant finger at the boys of the self-proclaimed Bakusquad. “I called it! Bakugou can get someone if he had a chance to show his pretty face! I SO CALLED IT!”
“What the f—” Kacchan’s borderline yelp was cut off when he remembered their front-row audience.
Hayami was stirring from her post-crying silence and was now turning to look in the direction of Ashido’s screams. The only remnants of her tears were the patches of red on her cheeks, eyes, and nose.
She blinked. Once. Several times.
“Auntie?”
There was a beat of silence.
“Oh, hell no—"
“THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE—!”