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Chapter Text

They had been called in on the word of a worried neighbor.

Something a bit more dangerous than a run-of-the-mill fight, they had been told. Not for them, but for those involved. Aizawa had only needed to hear the words, ‘There’s a child in danger’, before he had been rushing to grab his capture weapon. They were the heroes often called in for the sake of endangered children, especially when quirks were involved.

He and Hizashi were known for having soft spots for children, after all.

Their skills also lent themselves well to stepping in to protect a child. They were both teachers, they both understood more than a little about the personalities involved with people under the age of eighteen. Hizashi looked at him as the crossed into the crime scene, peering over the edge of his glasses. His hearing aids were haphazardly pushed into his ears, both of them having gotten dressed and ready to go in only a few minutes.

Aizawa nodded back, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves.

The report had been of a man beating a teenager. The man’s quirk appeared to be talons that grew sharp, but they couldn’t confirm that. The teenager’s quirk, if they had one, did not seem to be in use. The police were coming soon, but they had been closer.

More able to help.

With a nod, Aizawa approached the house at a run, slipping through an open door. His capture weapon was dangling from his hand, ready to be thrown into action. The man snarled wordlessly as his quirk was extinguished, Aizawa dragging him away from his victim as quickly as possible. “That is enough,” he felt himself slip into the voice he used to scold his students and he wrapped the man’s arms tightly behind his back.

Hizashi moved into the room, glancing around the situation for a moment before nodding. He moved to the curled-up shape of a teenager on the floor.

Out of the corner of his eye, Aizawa saw his boyfriend go stiff, absolutely silent.

As the lights of the police vehicles lit up the house, Aizawa almost could convince himself that he wasn’t being faced with a shock of purple hair. Could almost convince himself that the blood running down his forehead and into matching purple eyes didn’t belong to that particular teenager.

His own blood ran cold as he watched Hizashi check the injuries of Shinsou Hitoshi.

The man in his grasp struggled but Aizawa’s grip grew tighter, clenching fists going bloodless. Shinsou was barely moving, blood seeping down his forehead from a long scratch at his hairline. There was a dribble coming from his nose as well, his split lip making the entire look much more gruesome. Hizashi looked back at him for a moment and Aizawa felt his expression closing down, his hands shaking.

Shinsou was injured.

His student, the one he had chosen to train to help him transfer classes. The one who wanted to be a hero so badly that it burned inside of him.

Hizashi sat with him as the police entered, kept murmuring reassurances to him as the medics came through. There were photos taken, statements collected from the neighbors, Shinsou was made to sit still until the police took the man from Aizawa.

“Sasaki Asao,” the officer told him. “The papers we’re finding say that he’s the boy’s foster father.”

Aizawa nodded, barely hearing the words as he moved across the room. He crouched down in front of Shinsou, holding out a hand to the boy. His eyes focused, one of his hands pressed against his neck. There were bruises already forming – ghastly things, dark purple handprints on pale skin. The man had tried to choke Shinsou, had probably thrown him around more than once.

He was a hero but Aizawa almost wished he had broken some of the man’s bones.

“Is there anywhere you can stay?” Aizawa found himself asking Shinsou. His hand was still extended to him, unsure of what he was doing.

Shinsou glanced down, then shook his head minutely.

“Kid, I’m not going to yell,” Aizawa dropped to his knees, feeling fear flicker through him. “This isn’t something you’re supposed to have been trained on – this isn’t a reflection of you.” He glanced at Hizashi, wishing he could lean into his shoulder for support. “Shinsou?”

“My throat hurts,” Shinsou whispered, his voice raspy.

He looked defeated, his eyes watering, but there were no tears falling down his cheeks. His head was still bleeding sluggishly, some of his hair matted down with it.

“Yeah,” Hizashi nodded. “That’s understandable.”

He wasn’t as reserved as Shinsou – tears were tracking down his face slowly, his chest heaving gently as he continued to watch Shinsou. His hands were clenching uselessly in his lap.

“I’ll go with you to the hospital,” Aizawa found himself saying. “Present Mic?”

“Gotcha,” Hizashi nodded again. “Anything I can do here?”

“Gather his things. I’ll speak with the officers before we leave, contact you once we’ve settled in.” Aizawa watched as Shinsou took his hand. He helped the teenager to his feet, catching him as Shinsou wobbled and wavered, one of his legs shaking so badly that Aizawa knew something was at the very least sprained. “I am going to pick you up,” he told Shinsou, waiting until the boy nodded before sweeping him off the ground. The ambulance was waiting for them and he stepped inside, sitting down next to Shinsou.

In the background, he could hear Shinsou’s foster father yelling about him being a monster – a villain.

Bracing his elbows on his knees, Aizawa clasped his hands together in front of his mouth, his eyes closing as he tried to remember if he had ever seen any warning signs. Signs that Shinsou was afraid to go home, signs of abuse – anything he might have missed.

Had he just missed something?

Had he simply not looked hard enough?

The bruise he remembered seeing on Shinsou’s arm – was that a sign he had skipped over or was it a result of training? Roughhousing with a classmate?

An accident?

There were too many incidental possibilities. Too many options, too much to go through at the moment.

“Sensei?”

Shinsou’s voice was a hoarse croak of noise and Aizawa looked up to meet his eyes. “Yes?”

“Thank you for coming to find me.” Shinsou coughed, clearing blood from his throat if the specks that landed on his hand were any indication. He looked as if he were going to say something else but Aizawa put his hand on his shoulder.

“Shh, kid.” Aizawa pressed his lips together into a flat line, breathing deeply through his nose. “I just wish I had found out earlier. I would have taken steps to ensure your safety much sooner.”

Shinsou looked down at his own hands, the medic having moved on to cleaning off his forehead.

They remained silent until they reached the hospital.

Chapter Text

Hizashi moved around the small house, occasionally passing an officer.

It was a cramped building, the entire place feeling claustrophobic. With the splatters of blood, both dried and new, it looked like something out of a horror movie. Subtly off, in a way that was hard to catch the first time you saw it, but once you saw it you couldn’t stop seeing it.

He felt his throat clenching as tears kept rolling down his cheeks.

This was a student’s house. This was where the student Shouta had chosen to personally train lived. The boy that Shouta had pulled out of the house, bleeding and unable to speak much from the damage to his throat. They were the kid’s teachers and they had never managed to catch any of the signs of abuse. Hizashi hadn’t even known that Shinsou was a foster child – he had never had any cause to meet the boy’s parents. Shouta hadn’t either, not with Shinsou being in 1C. He hated the fact that the kid wasn’t the direct responsibility of either of them.

Moving through a door, Hizashi stopped dead in his tracks.

This had to be Shinsou’s room.

There was very little in the way of belongings. There was a small bed, a traditional one, on the floor. A thin blanket covered it, made neatly and as best it could be. The walls were bare, revealing nothing about a personality. When Hizashi opened the closet, there were only three sets of clothing.

His school uniform, his gym uniform, and something that looked like street clothes. The pants were torn at the knee and ripped across the thigh.

Unwearable.

Feeling his hands shaking, Hizashi picked up the school clothes and the bag he found tucked into the back of the closet. Shinsou’s school bag was wearing through in places, his books neatly organized. Tucking the clothes into the bag, Hizashi took a deep breath.

Something had to change.

He left the small room with it’s aura of fear and silence and he made his way towards the officer in charge. “Tsukauchi,” he called out. The man turned to look at him, eyes wide as he continued to take in the scene. Before he could speak, Hizashi had already cut him off. “I don’t care how you have to arrange it,” he held up the bag. “The boy is coming to stay with Shouta and me. I am not letting him stay in a police station or a hospital with no idea what comes next. He is certainly not coming back here.”

Tsukauchi blinked a couple of times, then nodded. “I can help make arrangements for that,” he pursed his lips, taking a slow and deep breath. “This is always an awful situation. You two have the room?”

“Yes,” Hizashi was already making plans on how to store his instruments away so that Shinsou could have the spare room in their apartment. He had turned it into a music studio when they had first moved in, but it could easily be turned back into a bedroom for a scared kid with nowhere else to go. “I’ve got what seems to be all of his stuff, already. School clothes, school bag.”

“…That’s all?”

“It is. You can check his room if you would like, but this is all I found.” Hizashi held the bag in his hands, feeling his knuckles turning white from how tightly he clenched it. “Keep us updated, alright? You already have our numbers. Tell us what happens to his foster.”

“His foster father is—”

“That man is not his father in any regard,” Hizashi couldn’t stop himself from snapping the words out. “Neither by fostering or by blood. No father, in any way, would be able to put his hands around his child’s neck and squeeze until they couldn’t talk.” His own hands were shaking, he realized, and he slung Shinsou’s bag over his shoulder. “I am going to the hospital to meet up with Shouta and the kid.”

“I will call you if there is any other problems.”

“Did Shouta actually speak with any officers before he left?” Hizashi reined in his temper long enough to ask, feeling his eyes itch in the way that meant more tears were coming.

Tsukauchi sighed. “Not as far as I know. You can catch up to them, however. We will contact you when we have enough information from here. Your involvement is clear to see – Eraserhead entered, restrained the attacker until we could take him. You comforted the victim until Eraserhead took him to the medics and the ambulance. You helped perform a check of the scene.” He pulled out a notebook and a pencil from his pocket, tapping the pencil against the cover.

“Thank you,” Hizashi nodded, giving a small bow.

“Go catch up to them,” Tsukauchi gave a small smile, however grim it was. He was one of the few police officers who knew that Hizashi and Shouta were together. He knew that the two of them hated being separated.

It happened enough with their various jobs, they didn’t need it happening more.

Hizashi jogged back to the car, sliding into the driver’s seat and settling Shinsou’s bag in the passenger seat. He pulled his phone out, sending off a quick text to Shouta – was Shinsou alright?

He got an answer in seconds, his boyfriend obviously monitoring his phone.

There was damage to his throat. There would be a healing Quirk user in the room soon. Shinsou hadn’t tried to communicate for a while, just staring at the wall. Shouta was worried. Hizashi took in that information and nodded, chewing on the inside of his lip. After a moment of hesitation, he sent off another couple of texts.

Did Shinsou have a favorite color?

What about a favorite animal?

Favorite food?

Shouta answered immediately about the food – Sesame Udon. He had mentioned it before, when Shouta had prodded for some information during training. The question about animals was answered a second later, naming cats as a favorite.

He wasn’t going to force Shinsou to talk, just yet. The favorite color could wait.

Hizashi started up the car, nodding as he did. He could work with that. He wasn’t going to the hospital just yet – Shinsou and Shouta would be there for some time, still. He had time to gather some things. Hizashi headed for the nearest mall, humming quietly. He could work with what he had – Shinsou’s uniform gave him an idea of what size of clothes the boy needed.

Pajamas, a blanket, food.

Time passed slowly as he shopped, his heart pounding in his chest. No one stopped to ask him anything, all of them seeming to want to keep out of the way. Hizashi knew he was almost unrecognizable. His hair was down and he was still just wearing his civilian glasses – his full uniform would have taken too much time to put on. He was wearing his leather jacket and pants, but that was the extent of it. He had left his speaker in the car.

No one would really connect Hizashi to Present Mic, at the moment.

He came out of the mall with a bag of items. A couple of changes of clothing, simple choices that he knew would suffice for now. A thick blanket – Shinsou would have to sleep on the couch until Hizashi got the room cleared out. It wouldn’t take long, he knew. He had also grabbed a small plushie cat, something adorable and comforting to look at. He had hesitated over that one, but he remembered how much he had appreciated his own stuffed toy when his nightmares came rolling around.

Hopefully Shinsou would appreciate it as well.

On his way to the hospital, Hizashi stopped and picked up food for all three of them. It was sunny out, now. The call had come in at six, Shinsou’s terror alerting the neighbors early in the morning. Sesame Udon for Shinsou, ramen with a side of salted edamame for Shouta, soba for himself.

Hizashi could feel himself panicking, but he took a deep breath as he parked the car.

He left the bag of shopping in the backseat, bringing the food.

When he found them, Shouta was sitting at Shinsou’s bedside. The teenager no longer had marks around his neck, but he was still sitting silently. Shouta looked up as Hizashi moved into the room, a small smile on his lips for just a moment. “Present Mic,” he inclined his head. After a moment, glancing at Shinsou, he sighed. “Hizashi.”

“I brought you food,” Hizashi held up the bag that had their takeout. Shouta pulled another visitor’s chair out, scooting it towards him. Sitting down, Hizashi opened the bag, handing Shouta his ramen. “Shinsou? I’ve been told you like sesame Udon.” He held it out towards him, waiting for him to take it.

Shinsou only stared at him, eyes wide.

His gaze darted between the box and Hizashi’s face, as if he wasn’t sure that he was being lied to. “Sensei?”

“It’s for you,” Hizashi nodded.

He hoped Shinsou didn’t see how much his hand, still holding his own food, was trembling. The boy’s reaction told him so much about the way he had been treated. Shouta nudged their knees together, waiting in the quiet of the room.

Shinsou reached out slowly, like he was afraid it would be taken away. “Thank you,” he bowed his head, settling the takeout box in his lap. His next breath was shaky, his eyes pinned on the hospital bed. “You didn’t have to.”

Hizashi could see hunger in his eyes, but it was the sort of hunger that he could recognize. The kind you pushed down until you convinced yourself it wasn’t there. The sort of hunger that meant night terrors and fear and a body that was eating itself alive to keep going. “I did,” he told Shinsou. “Because you were not being taken care of. Adults should always make sure kids are alright. That’s what we’re supposed to do – make sure you become an adult safely.”

He opened his own food. “You’re not going back there, by the way.”

“…What?”

Shouta dug into his ramen. “Kid, there is no way in hell that either of us would let you go back to that house. I don’t know where you’re going after this, but it’s not there. We can figure it out.”

Hizashi smiled.

‘Figure it out’ was Shouta’s way of saying, ‘I will bring you home with me if I have to’. He had used that sentence to bring home three different cats that were supposed to only be fosters. They had ended up adopting all three.

“It’s already figured out,” he pulled out his chopsticks, assembling a bite of food. “I asked Tsukauchi. For the time being, at least, we are taking him. There will be court appointments, undoubtedly, visits with therapists and psychologists, nearly endless paperwork – but Shinsou is coming home with us.” He put the bite into his mouth to avoid having to say anything else.

Shouta’s eyes were wide as he looked at his boyfriend.

To anyone else, it might have looked like a threat but Hizashi had known Shouta for so long that he could read him like a book. His boyfriend was happy about that. Even with the paperwork, he knew that Shouta was happy about it. He had mentioned being fond of Shinsou, being proud of the kid. He had given Shinsou a capture weapon like his own, after all. He saw himself in the boy, more than just a little, and he had done his best to help him become a hero.

“…I’m going home with you?”

Shinsou’s eyes were wide, his food open but untouched in his lap.

“Yes,” Hizashi nodded, swallowing quickly. “You will have to testify against your foster, but that’s a ways away still. We’ll help you.”

“Why?”

“Because you were mistreated,” Shouta spoke up. “And you never should have been.” He slurped some of his noodles, then pointed at Shinsou’s food. “And you should eat that.”

Shinsou tucked his knees to his chest, bringing his food up closer to his face. He began to eat.

The moment he had, Hizashi and Shouta continued with their food.

Chapter Text

Shinsou followed them quietly to their car.

It had been a long several hours in the hospital. Tsukauchi had shown up to speak with all three of them. Shouta sighed as he settled into the passenger seat, closing his eyes for a moment. Hizashi had done a lot of good things in their life together, but this was probably one of the best. Protecting a kid he hadn’t spoken to much ever simply for the sake of keeping him safe.

Shinsou was Aizawa’s one-on-one student. Guilt was creeping into his heart because he simply hadn’t noticed.

How had he not noticed?

“Your uniform and gym clothes are in your backpack,” Hizashi spoke up as he got into the car, turning around to look at Shinsou. Shouta opened his eyes again, looking at his boyfriend. “I made sure to grab them from that house before I left. I didn’t find much else – was there anything else you needed from there? I can have Tsukauchi grab things.”

“There wasn’t,” Shinsou looked down at his hands, buckling himself in. “I don’t have much.”

“Alright,” Hizashi swallowed and Shouta wanted to reach out and hold his hand. He looked nervous – fearful and worried and nervous. “That bag, next to your backpack? That’s yours too. I hope you don’t mind some of the colors. We can get more for you later, once you’ve had some rest. Those are just for now.”

“…What is it?”

“Just a couple of basic things,” Hizashi smiled but Shouta knew his throat was tight, his shoulders were trembling softly. Hizashi had never been good with child abuse. His own background had made it hard, but he knew how to handle things. Knew how to help. He had made it through, so he could help others make it through. “I got you some toiletries, toothbrush and toothpaste and some other stuff. A pair of pajamas, some house slippers. There’s a couple of surprises in there as well. That blanket is for you, too.”

Shinsou was staring at the bag almost like he was expecting it to be a bomb. “…Why?”

“Because you need them,” Shouta spoke up, his left hand clenching the leg of his pants. “Because they’re a part of having a child and the fact that you are even asking that is part of why he got you them.”

“No one wants me around,” Shinsou shook his head. “I’m just…Wondering when you’ll know that,” he looked confused by the words coming out of his mouth, but then he couldn’t seem to stop. “I’ve been bounced from foster home to foster home for years, now. My parents…I think they died?” he frowned, one hand curling around his elbow. It was like a stream of consciousness that he couldn’t keep inside of himself any longer. “No one has ever wanted to keep me, my Quirk makes me dangerous and a monster and a villain and I just want—I just want to keep people safe, even if that means keeping them safe from me!”

Shouta turned around in his seat as well, gently unhooking Shinsou’s nails from his own skin. “You don’t need to keep people safe from you,” he held Shinsou’s hand. “Because you are not a monster. The only monster I have seen today is the man who decided that harming you was a good idea.”

Shinsou stared at him, his hand clamping tightly around Shouta’s.

Hizashi started the car, clearing his throat as he began to drive. “For now, you will have to sleep on the couch. It’ll only be for a night or two, until I can get the spare room cleared out.”

“…You don’t have to—”

“Kid,” Shouta twisted his hand around so that he could squeeze Shinsou’s gently. “Of course we do.”

Looking at the bag now, Shouta could see a handful of clothing. A small plushie peeked out of the top. Comfort items were useful, he remembered Hizashi saying. They gave someone an anchor when it felt like the world was slipping away from them. He glanced at his boyfriend, watching his face for a moment. While they had both known Shirakumo, Hizashi had known him longer. He had been the one to help Oboro escape his home life on occasion.

Hizashi’s parents were wonderful people and had let the other boy live with them for however long he needed to.

Shouta had heard many stories about what happened in a household with two deaf parents and a voice Quirk. Oboro had told him some, Hizashi had told him others. With a sigh, Shouta looked down at where his hand was still connected to Shinsou’s. “Of course we do,” he repeated. “The adults in your life were not doing their jobs. And yes, that includes us.”

Shinsou’s brow furrowed.

“We did not even notice,” Hizashi’s voice was soft. “If we had been paying more attention…” he sighed and flicked on a turn signal, his next breath shaky. “We might have been able to prevent this entirely. We should have noticed. We should have known, should have seen.” He glanced in the rearview mirror, looking at Shinsou. “I am so sorry we did not notice.”

“I hid it,” Shinsou looked away first. “I didn’t want people to know.”

Shouta felt a flare of anger.

Not at Shinsou, of course not. At every single person who had ever managed to make him feel less than adequate. He was more than enough – he was an amazing student, picking up on maneuvers without even a hitch in his step. He was smart, quick, brave…

So maybe Shouta had thought of him as a pseudo-son for some time.

No one else had to know about that, just yet. Hizashi knew. But no one else needed to. “Why not?” he managed to govern his voice into something sturdier than the tears he felt building. Hizashi was the openly emotional one – Shouta was the one who waited until he was behind closed doors, with his boyfriend. He was still holding Shinsou’s hand, his student clutching like he was afraid to let go. “Why didn’t you want anyone to know?”

“Because I am supposed to be stronger than that,” Shinsou sounded carefully blank, almost like he always did.

Defense mechanisms.

Oboro had used humor, his loud laughter and his various movements. Shinsou appeared to force himself to be emotionless. Quiet. The realization made Shouta feel like someone had shot him in the chest. That was the result when an abuser told them they weren’t allowed to respond emotionally. Shinsou was quiet. Emotionless when he could be. “You are still a child,” Shouta managed to make himself say. “You are not supposed to be the strength of a household. You are not supposed to be the thing holding everyone up. You are still a child.” He squeezed Shinsou’s hand again. “You are supposed to worry about homework and go wandering around with friends and—And—” he closed his eyes.

“You are not supposed to be afraid of the people watching over you,” Hizashi whispered.

Shouta leaned his forehead against Hizashi’s shoulder for a second, then pulled away and nodded. “A child should never have to be afraid of their parents,” he turned back to Shinsou. “And you are still a child, despite what you may think.”

Shinsou stared back at him, eyes marginally wider.

He had broken through his shell, a little. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. “We are bringing you home,” Hizashi hummed a small snatch of notes. “You do not have to live with us forever. If, when the times comes, you want to be moved into another foster home, we will help arrange that. This is where you are going for now.”

“Properly vetted, if that’s what you choose,” Shouta added in.

In his heart, he knew he didn’t want to give Shinsou to another family. He would do what was best for his student, but he had already gotten too attached. He had gotten too attached the moment he had started training him.

Call him a sucker, but he saw too much of himself in the boy.

Someone with a Quirk that was hard to test, could be deemed villainous. He would have had a hard time against the robots in the admission test for the academy. Mental Quirks always did. Shouta himself had transferred to the Hero course by way of the sports festival. His own Quirk had been hard to show off against a target that wasn’t organic.

Shinsou looked at the two of them with something approaching hope in his eyes. It was too soon to tell if it would fully blossom into belief that he was safe, but Shouta hoped it would. The rest of the drive was silent, Hizashi turning into the driveway for their apartment building. He backed into their space and turned the car off. “Alright,” he turned to look at Shinsou. “Are you ready?”

Shouta let go of his hand, watching as he collected his school bag.

After a moment of hesitation, Shinsou picked up the bag of shopping as well. Shouta grabbed the blanket in its packaging before Shinsou could even begin to try to figure out how to carry all three things. “In we go!” Hizashi put on a smile that Shouta knew was slightly forced – he had to be remembering Oboro as well. They often did, the small shrine in a corner of their apartment dedicated to those they had lost seeing much use. Both of them had agreed, when they had moved in together, that Oboro had been as good as family.

Oboro, whose family had been a nightmare.

Shinsou followed along behind them as they went up to their apartment. Hizashi braced himself at the door, waiting, as Shouta held Shinsou back for a moment. When the seven gin ball of fluff and muscle named Tuna had launched herself into Hizashi’s chest, Shouta let Shinsou go inside ahead of him.

Hizashi scratched at Tuna’s head, muttering nonsense to her as he removed his boots. As always, he held her against his shoulder like a baby, balancing and removing his shoes with one hand. It was the usual process and Shouta had always felt comforted by watching it. Now he watched as Shinsou removed his shoes and pulled out his new slippers, glancing at Hizashi and Tuna every few seconds. “…I—” he looked confused. “What?”

“This is Tuna,” Hizashi knelt down next to Shinsou. “She’s one of our three cats.”

Tuna made a noise that sounded something like a question as she leaned out of Hizashi’s arms, one of her paws patting against Shinsou’s face. “Hello Tuna,” Shinsou reached out slowly, glancing at Hizashi. His hand froze in midair.

“She’s friendly,” Hizashi nodded. “Tuna, say hi!”

Meowing again, Tuna pushed her way out of Hizashi’s arms and into Shinsou’s lap. She turned around on his legs a few times before sitting down. She formed herself into a loaf in his lap and Shinsou looked like he didn’t know what to do. “You can pet her,” Shouta pulled on his own slippers, nodding when Shinsou glanced at him. “He’s right. She is very friendly. Salmon is her brother, from the same litter. Pepper, somewhere around here, is a little shy.”

“Pepper?”

“Small black cat,” Hizashi nodded. “She’s about the size of one of my slippers. She likes to hide in clothes she finds on the floor, so you have to shake anything you’re trying to pick up to do laundry. She’ll usually be in a sleeve or pant leg.”

“…Salmon?”

“Tuna and Salmon are both Japanese bobtails,” Shouta stuffed his hands into his pockets, watching the expression of happiness on Shinsou’s face. “Pepper is a Singapura. All three of them will make a cuddle pile on the floor in the morning. It’s adorable.” He almost winced at the side of himself he didn’t often show outside his home, but he held it back as Shinsou looked awestruck at the thought of the three cats. Hizashi stood up, standing next to him.

“I’m going to start clearing out the room,” he said softly, pitching his voice to Shouta.

Shouta nodded, watching him walk off.

“A couple of rules,” Shouta leaned against the wall, watching Shinsou becoming absorbed in petting the cat in his lap. “If you need us, for any reason, come get us. If this happens at night, turn on a light first. Hizashi is half-blind without his glasses and almost entirely deaf without his hearing aids. The light is the most reliable way to get his attention.” Shinsou looked up at him, eyes wide. His hands were still stroking across Tuna’s back. “I sleep odd hours, so I may already be awake if you need me. Check by the kotatsu – it’s where I often do my work.”

Shinsou nodded.

“Other rules…” Shouta hummed, glancing around the apartment. “If you need food, get something to eat out of the fridge. Or out of the cupboards. Beyond that, we have a fairly strict at-least-two-meals-a-day rule.”

“Shouta tries not to follow that one!” Hizashi called from the other room. “Yell at him if you catch him skipping!”

With a sound that was almost a snort, Shinsou cupped a hand over his mouth. “It’s okay to laugh, kid.” Shouta rolled his eyes. “Hizashi is ridiculous and sometimes loud but he does his best to keep it from bothering others. We have soundproofing in parts of the apartment. He likes to sing in the shower, sometimes. Speaking of that,” he looked into the bag of things Hizashi had bought. “Oh, good, he did buy you a towel.”

"I will never be able to pay you back," Shinsou spoke up. 

"Kids shouldn't have to pay adults back for survival necessities," Shouta answered without hesitation. "If you need anything, let us know."

Chapter Text

Hizashi could hear Shouta in the other room, speaking quietly to Shinsou.

The boy seemed mostly confused about what had happened – he couldn’t blame the kid. They had just suddenly shown up at his house, rescued him from the man trying to kill him, then taken him in. To their apartment. All in all, it had to be a confusing day for him. To suddenly be taken out of a dangerous place by teachers of the school he attended, ones who weren’t even his teacher for the most part. Shouta wanted him in 1A, but the transfer had yet to happen. They weren’t even sure if it would.

With a shake of his head, Hizashi pulled down a guitar, settling it into the case that was waiting at his feet.

Oboro had been like Shinsou, sometimes.

Enough times to give Hizashi his own nightmares about what his friend’s life at home had been like. Shinsou reminded him of all three of them – Oboro’s fear and homelife, Shouta’s quiet logic and assessment of the world, Hizashi’s own streak of bright optimism. Wanting to be a hero, despite what he had been through?

Tsukauchi had talked about Shinsou’s foster history, at the hospital. The way Shinsou spoke about his own Quirk made sense when paired with that.

How many people had looked at him – at a child – and declared him a villain just because his Quirk was a little strange?

Shinsou was a calm boy. Hizashi taught him English, he knew a little about what Shinsou was like at school. He kept to himself, rarely answering in class unless absolutely necessary. He turned in papers full of neat handwriting, tidy letters that ran in straight lines. He was a good student. Shouta had spoken about training him, before – Shinsou picked up on things at an amazing speed. He was bright. Hizashi shuffled a stack of compositions into a neater pile and put the entire arrangement into a case. He picked up languages easily if his English was anything to judge by, and he stayed on topic in his exercises.

Shouta was proud of him.

He was a good student.

For a moment, tears pricked at his eyes again. His hands clenched into fists, thankfully not holding anything breakable. Why was it always the ones who so sincerely wanted to help others? Shinsou wanted to be a hero.

Even though someone had seen fit to hurt him like that, even though others had thrown him out. He still held onto the good in the world, enough to want to save it.

Hizashi cleared his throat, rubbing at his eyes behind his glasses until he saw stars.

“He will be okay,” Shouta’s words were soft. “We have him now.”

“How did no one notice?” Hizashi’s voice was trembling when he spoke, his hands shaking. “How didn’t I notice – How didn’t his teacher notice? He’s taught by Ito, right?” he clenched his teeth. “Ito Aika. She’s supposed to be watching over him. Over all of her students. She doesn’t notice, somehow, when one of her students is being abused?” Hizashi stopped jittering when Shouta crossed the room and wrapped his arms around him. “I know we didn’t either, but…She sees him the most. How did no one notice?”

“He hides it,” Shouta leaned up to press his chin into Hizashi’s shoulder. “He told us that. He didn’t want anyone to notice.”

“I know.”

“But we have him here, now. We just have to hope he lets us help him,” Shouta’s hands moved up Hizashi’s back, until he was cupping his cheeks. He pulled his face down so that their foreheads touched. “We have him out of that house, away from that man. We have him here. We can do our best.” He drew away slowly, a lazy smile on his lips. “So how are you doing with putting away your five thousand instruments?”

“It’s not that many,” Hizashi had to laugh at his boyfriend, feeling his gloomy mood being chased away by the man’s presence. “Is Shinsou alright?”

“I left him petting Tuna and Salmon,” Shouta glanced back towards the door, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Is there anything you were thinking about how we approach this, in particular? He still needs things. His schoolbag is nearly threadbare, his shoes are starting to wear through. He will need more clothing than just what he has. Hizashi,” he sighed. “That boy has spent the entirety of today in his pajamas. Those sweatpants and that top. That is it.”

“I know,” Hizashi fiddled with the clasp of his clarinet’s case. “I had thought about calling off work tomorrow and taking him shopping for things.”

“He’s worried about not paying us back.”

“…We’re the adults here.”

“Yes, and he is worried about being able to pay us back. Someone, at some point in time,” Shouta jerked his chin towards the living room, where Shinsou was hopefully still petting the cats instead of panicking. “Made that boy aware that he was an expense. What’s more, they informed him that he was an expense they did not want.”

Hizashi nodded. “So that is a load of bullshit.” He grinned.

“It very much is,” Shouta agreed. “Did you want me to come with you tomorrow?”

“I would appreciate it. I have a plan for making certain he gets his stuff without ever seeing the price total. It requires you taking him away to the restaurants near the mall and the department stores before I head to checkout. I’ll say I still need a few things,” Hizashi put his hands together in a steeple under his chin, folding his fingers down until his two pointers were still out. Tapping them a few times, he looked at Shouta. “It’ll serve a couple of purposes. Keep him from seeing the total, get him fed. I know…I know his body isn’t telling him he’s hungry.”

Oboro had been like that.

He had just genuinely not been able to tell. Years of infrequent meals and being underfed had resulted in his brain ignoring the hunger pangs. When something happened too often, the notifications were shut off.

“I’ll call us out,” Shouta pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Is this as clear as it’s getting for now?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Hizashi looked around. It wasn’t the best, but it was enough to drag their guest futon out and put Shinsou’s new blanket on it. The futon would need to be aired out first, so the kid was still sleeping on the couch for the night. He watched for a moment as Shouta’s call connected, his voice even and clear as he spoke with one of the other teachers. Hizashi wished his boyfriend the best of luck – the other staff of U.A. knew what little hellions Shouta’s students were. They would take the job, they wouldn’t say no, but it would take some convincing and probably some bribery.

Hizashi padded out to the living room, snagging the futon on the way there.

With a glance around the room, he saw the cloud of purple hair sticking out above the couch. He opened the balcony door and flopped the futon over the railing, smacking it a few times for good measure. With that done, he turned and headed for where Shinsou sat.

At his approach, the boy looked up with wide eyes.

His hands were hovering, as if he were afraid to reach out, over a small ball of black fluff. Pepper had crawled out of whatever hiding spot she had found this time and curled up in Shinsou’s lap. “She’s shy,” Hizashi plopped down onto the couch, a full cushion away. “I’m glad she likes you.”

“…She likes me?”

“She doesn’t normally like strangers. I think she can tell you needed her right now, though. You can pet her,” Hizashi reached out and ran his fingers over her side, scratching gently at her stomach. “She’d appreciate it, I think.”

Shinsou looked down at Pepper, then at his hand. “I just…Normally, people don’t let me near their pets.” He swallowed, nervous, as if he expected Hizashi to pluck Pepper out of his lap then and there. “For some reason, they always think I’ll control them or something. I wouldn’t,” he frowned, watching the trail of his fingers through her fur. Pepper arched up, purring louder and louder, then settled with her feet in the air. “I can’t. I wouldn’t want to.”

Hizashi watched as Pepper settled in, smiling. “I know.”

“…Why did you let me stay here, Mic-Sensei?” Shinsou continued to pet Pepper as he steadfastly avoided eye contact. “Aizawa-Sensei agreed, but you were the one who had already gotten the plan together in the first place.”

“Because you need the help,” Hizashi braced his elbows on his knees. “Because I know what it’s like, what you’re going through. Part of it, at least. I used to have this friend—a long, long time ago now – who came from a similar situation. I told myself that if something like that ever happened again, when I could do something about it, I would do everything I could. You deserve to grow up feeling safe, Shinsou. You deserve to grow up feeling safe and comfortable and like a part of a family.” He took a deep breath, shaking his head. “I’m sorry you haven’t gotten that, so far in your life. I’m sorry that we didn’t notice before it got to the worst point. Every adult in your life has, in some way, failed you.”

He glanced at Shinsou, seeing purple eyes staring at him. “But we’re going to try to help you now.”

Shinsou blinked a couple of times, his next breath shaky. “Okay,” he nodded.

“Tomorrow, none of us are going to the school,” Shouta’s voice came from behind them. Hizashi smiled, too used to his boyfriend’s silent movements to even be startled. “Hizashi had the idea of taking you shopping for everything else you’ll need.”

“But—”

“Don’t cite cost,” Shouta cut across his words. “We are going. You need more clothes than what you have. There are so many things you still need.”

“As far as the room goes,” Hizashi spoke again. “There’s space cleared for you. It’s good enough for the moment, I’ll have to pack more away tomorrow. The futon airing out on the balcony is the guest one. It’s all yours once it’s aired. Tonight you’ll still have to sleep on the couch, but we can make sure you have an actual bed tomorrow night.”

“Pepper found you,” Shouta looked almost smug as he perched his elbows on the back of the couch. “I had half expected her to.”

Shinsou looked overwhelmed, but he nodded.

His hands burrowed gently through her fur, like he was grounding himself with the soft texture of it.

Chapter Text

Normally, Shouta did not appreciate the sounds and the movements of a store.

Everything felt like too much, all at once. His mind latched onto every single thing and started analyzing it all for any possible threat. They had blackout curtains in their bedroom window for a reason – Hizashi had insisted once he’d learned that Shouta couldn’t shut his mind off at night. Usually, if shopping was a necessity, Shouta would order things online. He could replenish his usual wardrobe that way.

But Shinsou needed things.

As always, he would force himself out of his own safeties and standards for his students. Hizashi had chided him for that, more than once. Especially after the attack on the students at the U.S.J.

Waking up in the hospital had been interesting. Being able to come home was a novelty, after that. Hizashi had taken to greeting him with a kiss every single time he entered a room. Their jobs were always dangerous, but that had been a shock for both of them. They hadn’t expected the students to be in such danger, for such a threat to appear.

With a small sigh, Shouta braced himself. Getting out of the car to join his boyfriend and his student, Shouta shoved his hands into his pockets.

Shinsou walked between them, silent.

“Anything you need, just put it in the basket, alright?” Shouta heard Hizashi explaining. His hands were twisting together, one of the few signs of nerves he would allow himself to publicly display. “Absolutely anything. I don’t care if it’s a plushie or a weird hat – if you want it, it goes in the basket.”

“But—”

“Shinsou,” Shouta tamped down on the urge to laugh at his boyfriend. He did allow himself to smile, however. “He does this sometimes. Get whatever you need, let him buy it for you.”

“…I,” Shinsou frowned, looking between the two of them. “I don’t really want anything.”

Hizashi took a deep breath. Shouta could almost feel the sadness welling up in him. “You are allowed to want things, Shinsou,” he reached down and put his hand on Shinsou’s shoulder. “What is the point of being a teenager if you’re not allowed to have any fun with it?” He grinned, glancing at Shouta. “I know I picked out a plushie for you yesterday, but if you want a couple more…Or if you want anything else…Just—Just let yourself want things.”

Shouta had to bite the inside of his lip to keep himself from cooing gently over Hizashi. At one point, a long time ago, Hizashi had wanted to teach children. Not the children they normally taught – yochien had been his goal at one time. Hizashi loved children.

If it weren’t for the fact that they were both Pro Heroes with tight schedules, each holding at least two jobs, they might have adopted a few of their own by now.

If their lives had been different, he would have made an excellent father.

“I…I can try,” Shinsou looked at the ground, his hands hanging at his sides. Unthreatening at all points, that was something Shouta had noticed about him before. In the reports of Shinsou’s health there had been no reports of defensive wounds.

He had never fought back.

Shouta looked up as they entered the store. “I will insist we start with clothing,” he looked at both of them. “You need at least four pairs of pants and eight shirts. Enough to allow for laundry to be done without inconveniencing you. This is a minimum.” He raised his chin when Shinsou glanced at him. “You are allowed to have more than that.”

“Oh!” Hizashi laughed, already settling the basket into the cart. “I never did ask – What’s your favorite color?”

“…I like gold. And…And purple.”

“Okay!” Hizashi moved towards them, leaning on the cart handle. “Now we can start.”

They moved through the store slowly, pausing every now and then as Shinsou hesitated by a shelf. The pants were easy enough – five pairs, all of a similar style, in various colors. Two of them were black. After the pants were in the basket and there was no yelling, Shinsou seemed to relax a little. Shouta watched as he seemed to bloom a little, his eyes a little less lost as he moved around. He would actually speak to them when they asked him something.

The next hurdle was when it came to outwear. “At least two jackets,” Shouta advised. “And a sweater or two.”

“That’s—” Shinsou seemed to hyperventilate for a second, his hands clenching in front of him. “That’s a lot.” He looked down at the ground, his cheeks pinking. “Do I need that much?” he muttered. Shouta moved until he stood in front of his student, crouching down in front of him. “Sensei?”

“Of course you do,” Shouta met his eyes, reaching up to put a hand on his shoulder. “Sometimes the weather gets interesting. Sometimes you need a lighter jacket – or a heavier one. Shinsou,” he let himself smile. “Shinsou, you need jackets and sweaters. You need clothes. This is part and parcel of taking care of children. I will say it as many times as you need to hear it. We are taking care of you, as adults are supposed to do for children.”

His student’s next breath was tinged with tears, but he nodded. “O-okay.”

“Sweaters are right here,” Hizashi spoke up, gesturing off to their left. “I can see a couple I think you’ll like. Would it be easier if I brought them to you?”

“I think so,” Shinsou rubbed at his face, nodding again.

“Alright,” Hizashi nudged the cart towards Shouta, heading off into the section. They both watched as he left, Shinsou continuing to rub until the tears were off his face. Shouta stood up slowly, tapping his student’s shoulder with a single knuckle. Without saying a word, he began to breathe in slow, even, deep draws of air. Automatically, Shinsou began doing the same.

It was a technique he had started during their training.

“Follow me,” he whispered, putting a hand on his own chest. “Just breathe, alright?”

After a few minutes, Shinsou was breathing normally again, his hands drifting towards the handle of the cart. “…Why are you being so kind, Sensei?” he asked, his voice low. “I know I am your student when it comes to the training you are giving me, but I am only your student in that regard. I am not in your class, though I am in Mic-Sensei’s English class. I would like to be in 1A, but I am in 1C. There is no connection beyond training between us.”

“Because you remind me of someone I used to know,” Shouta said after a minute that seemed to be an eternity. “Because you need the help. Needing help is not a sign of weakness,” he said the words before the thought could even begin to cross Shinsou’s mind. “There is nothing wrong with needing help. Everyone needs help, sometimes. Shinsou,” he sighed. “If you wanted me to, I would go into a court and advocate for you. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, if necessary.” He glanced in the direction Hizashi had disappeared. “Not simply because you are a child or a student, but because you are in need of the help. You are not primarily my student, but that does not mean I am going to disregard you.”

“It’s a burden on you.”

“If I cared about that,” Shouta met his eyes. “I would never have become a teacher in the first place.” He saw Hizashi coming back and he nodded. “Now you have a couple of choices to make.”

The sweaters that ended up in the basket were soft. Thick knits, soft and warm, comfort items that Shinsou could wear. One of them was a gradient of dark purple, almost blue, that became a lavender sort of color at the top. The occasional golden stitch shimmered in the darkness, an imitation of the night sky. Hizashi had chosen well; Shinsou seemed almost in love with that one. Every time they stopped to look at something, he ran his fingers gently over the fabric.

When they got to the section with the plushies and the collectables, Shouta sighed.

Every time they went out shopping, Hizashi would bring home something that he claimed reminded him of Shouta. Sometimes it was a Gudetama, which would cause him to smile but he could never let Hizashi know that. His keys were attached to a keychain of the odd little egg creature.

He could never let his students know.

Hizashi grinned as he looked at Shouta and he knew that today would be no different. He would find something to bring home for Shouta, something just to make him smile, and Shouta would pretend he wasn’t smiling. And that he thought it was a waste.

Usually while clipping it to something.

Shinsou perked up a little, looking at something. There was a small calligraphy set on the shelf, the packaging saying something about everything a beginner would need. From the look of it, there was paper in the set as well. An ink stone, a couple of brushes, ink. With a look at Shinsou, Shouta smiled. “Do you remember what we said earlier?” he picked the set up. Holding it out to Shinsou, he tucked his other hand into his pocket.

“…If I want it, it goes in the basket.” Shinsou took it slowly, running his thumbs over the metal case. “I don’t even know much about – I remember something about calligraphy. I think,” he frowned, his eyes going distant. “I think my mom practiced it.”

He put it in the cart even slower than he had accepted it from Shouta.

For just a moment he looked so young. He actually looked his age, perhaps. Not the age that he seemed to be based on how he had been raised. That much trauma and stress added years to someone’s age, Shouta knew from personal experience. However his parents had gone, whatever had happened to them, Shinsou had good memories of them. “We can teach you,” Shouta felt a lump in his throat and he willed himself not to cry. “I know enough about calligraphy to teach you the basics.”

“Thank you,” Shinsou looked at the floor again. With a deep breath, he nodded. “That would be highly appreciated.”

Hizashi was definitely crying.

When Shouta met his eyes, Hizashi waved him off. “Actually,” he spoke up, his voice rough at the edges. “Would the two of you mind going to get us a table at the noodle restaurant down the street? I’m getting a little hungry and if I am,” he gestured at Shouta. “That means he is probably ignoring his stomach telling him to eat. Remember the two-meal-rule?” He raised an eyebrow. “It still applies when we’re not at home.”

“I had a Konnyaku before we left the apartment.”

“And that is not really food, Shouta,” Hizashi crossed his arms over his chest. “So if the two of you could kindly go get us a table?”

Shouta rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, turning on his heel. “Shinsou?” he waved for his student to follow. Shinsou was almost immediately behind him, following quietly. “Never tell him this,” he whispered as they left the store. “But I appreciate it when he bothers me about eating. I do often forget.”

“How long have the two of you been together?” Shinsou’s voice was a little more steady than it had been since they had pulled him from his foster’s home. He seemed to be finding his footing in the world, confidence growing with every second he wasn’t in danger.

“Since we were seventeen,” Shouta’s smile was soft and he knew it. “We have been friends since our first year at the academy, though that was not by my choice. He saw me sitting alone and he and a friend of his sat down. I have not known peace ever since.” He glanced at Shinsou and saw the small smile the boy wore. “Say nothing about this to him. He will be even louder than usual.” He reached out and hesitated for a second before gently ruffling Shinsou’s hair. “I love him very much.”

“…It sounds nice.”

“What does?”

Shinsou was still smiling when he looked at Shouta again. “Knowing someone that long. Loving someone that long. Being sure of a life with them.”

“It is nice,” Shouta tucked his hair behind his ear, then sighed. Pulling the hair tie off of his wrist, his bound his hair back. “I might as well do this right now,” he rolled his eyes again. “Makes eating in restaurants easier. But yes, knowing someone for that long is…Nice. I wake up every day, however tired I am, next to my best friend. Next to the man I have loved for so long that I don’t remember not feeling that way about him.”

“I…” Shinsou rubbed at his elbow. “My foster father’s wife ran away from him. About a week and a half ago. That’s about when he started…”

“Okay,” Shouta nodded, filing that information away for later.

They stopped at the doors of the restaurant, looking at each other. “In we go,” Shouta held the door for Shinsou. “Hizashi will be by in not too long, I think. Probably dropping things off at the car.”

Chapter Text

There were a couple more things Shinsou would need.

Hizashi checked the time on his phone – it had only been about fifteen minutes since he had sent his boyfriend and Shinsou to the restaurant. It would take them about eight minutes to walk there, another three or four to get a table. He would arrive in not too much longer, but there were a couple more things he needed to pick up for the kid.

A cell phone was a necessity.

Not only for being able to communicate with people, but for the sake of being able to call for help if he needed it. They didn’t know if Shinsou would be staying with them, but it didn’t matter. Hizashi could already feel himself growing attached.

Even if he could only buy stuff to help, prepare him to be sent off again, he would consider it well worth the expense.

After choosing the phone, Hizashi also picked up a couple of accessories for it. A case in a deep purple color that matched the sweater Shinsou had been so fond of, a pair of headphones that could be recharged, an external battery in a soft coppery-gold color. After he paid for all of it, he laughed a little, making his way towards the restaurant. He wasn’t just a little attached, he didn’t think. He had heard Shouta’s rants about the fact that Shinsou had been relegated to the support classes. About the fact that Shinsou was so much better than what he had been given.

Shouta adored the boy.

They had talked about adopting, before. The answer had always been a clear and obvious no – with his three jobs and Shouta’s two, their hours eaten up by their duties, neither of them would be home enough to care for any child they might have gotten. In the short time Shinsou had been in their lives, Shouta had relaxed. In just a day, since finding him covered in bruises and scratches, things had settled in remarkably fast.

Like Shinsou had slipped into their lives and was meant to be there.

Even if he could only help prepare the kid for whatever his life would be beyond them, Hizashi would do everything in his power to do so.

Rubbing his hand over his cheeks to wipe away any tears that might be forming, Hizashi cleared his throat as he came up to the door of the restaurant. Stepping inside, he slid off his shoes and put on the slippers that were given to him. The tradition of the restaurant was almost comforting, reminding him of growing up surrounded by his parents and grandparents. Somewhere there was a photo of him in a yukata, posed next to his grandmother as she cooked.

It had been a summer festival, he remembered. The air of the kitchen had always smelled like food, in the summer.

When they had found this restaurant, on their second date, Hizashi had loved it almost as much as he loved Shouta.

He moved through the restaurant, finding his little cluster of people quickly. Shouta was talking quietly about something, his hands drawing a small diagram on the surface of the table. His back was to Hizashi. With a soft giggle, Hizashi held a finger to his lips as Shinsou glanced at him. The boy looked away quickly, focusing back on Shouta, as Hizashi crept closer and crouched down. Shouta had his hair up and seeing the back of his neck always made Hizashi want to press a kiss to the soft skin that was exposed. Without a doubt, Shouta already knew he was there. He always did.

“Hello,” Shouta didn’t even hesitate, turning to face him. “Everything alright?”

Hizashi nodded, smiling. Across the table, he could see Shinsou – the boy had a small smile on his own face. It was a shy thing, like he didn’t even know he was smiling. A faint upturn of his lips, a flicker of something like happiness in his eyes. Affection had to be somewhat unusual for him, Hizashi thought. From what they had been told of his past, the families he had been placed with, the people who had taunted him and judged him for a quirk he’d had no control over, affection had been in short supply almost all of his life. “Everything is perfect,” Hizashi hummed, settling into the seat next to Shouta. “I got you something!”

“What is it this time?”

Shouta always liked to pretend to be annoyed when Hizashi bought him gifts, but he knew his boyfriend better than anyone. Shouta kept his keys on a keychain Hizashi had bought him. He put the magnets on their fridge, hung the occasional wall art without a word. He had talked to Hizashi about it once. Their love language was a compatible thing. Hizashi would buy things for the ones he cared about.

Shouta would quietly show things about his loved ones off.

It spoke volumes about how he viewed Shinsou that he had chosen to personally train him. Not even properly his student, Shouta had become fond enough of him to choose to train him. In his own style, much less. His capture weapon had a twin, somewhat shorter and newer.

“Here,” Hizashi bit his bottom lip, trying to keep himself still as Shouta opened the small box.

He had seen it and felt the urge to buy it immediately. The expression that flashed across Shouta’s face was well worth it, too. His eyes lit up and a smile curled the edges of his mouth. The small cat keychain Hizashi had found looked exactly like Tuna, down to the spots and color variations. With a small cough, Shouta tucked it back into the box, his cheeks turning a soft pink as he tucked it away in his pocket. “And what I am supposed to do with another keychain?” he asked, his cheeks twitching like he was forcing himself to not smile.

“Put it with your others,” Hizashi leaned his chin into his hand. “Like you always do.”

Shouta met his eyes, his hand reaching out to take Hizashi’s free one. “We already ordered our drinks,” he skipped ahead, avoiding the topic entirely. “Perhaps when our waiter comes back, you can join us in that.”

Hizashi squeezed his hand, brushing his thumb over his knuckles. “Shouta, I’m hurt,” he whined. “You know what I always drink here. I’m certain the waiters know as well – we come here every week,” he turned to Shinsou. “We love this restaurant and I’m hoping you will too. Order whatever you would like to eat.”

“…Why are you—never mind.” Shinsou looked down at the edge of the table, his shoulders curling in.

“Shinsou?”

“I am only a student of yours in regards to English,” Shinsou’s voice was so quiet that Hizashi almost missed it. “I am nothing special. Not to you—not to either of you, really. I just…I don’t know why you’ve chosen to help me. You keep saying things, and I keep hearing you say them, but I can’t make it make sense in my head,” tears were welling up in his eyes, his hands clenched together in his lap. “Nothing connects you to me besides the fact that I attend the school you teach at—”

“Shinsou,” Shouta almost looked distressed. Visibly distressed was Hizashi’s least favorite expression on his boyfriend.

“Here,” Hizashi stood up, moving around the table until he was sitting next to Shinsou. “Look at me?”

Shinsou’s bottom lip was quivering, his eyes watery. Too much masking of his emotions, too much hiding what he was feeling. Hizashi had a sudden, deep and unshakable, suspicion that Shinsou made himself feel empty while surrounded by people only to break down when he was alone. “Shinsou, look at me.” He said again. “My name is Yamada Hizashi. I chose a life of caring about people. In a general sense as well as a specific one.” He curled his hand loosely, then reached for Shinsou’s shoulder. No fist shapes, no sharp movements. “Of course I care about you. Not only are you a good student, but you are a good person who deserves far better than what you have been given.”

Shoulders shaking, Shinsou looked down, his mouth pinching tightly shut.

He let his arm slide around Shinsou’s shoulders, bringing him slowly in for a sideways hug. He let Shinsou decide what to do from there. Affection was clearly new to him, after all. “I care about you,” he said the words again, hoping they would sink in. “You are nothing like what they called you. You are not a monster, you are not a nightmare. Shinsou, you are not and never will be a villain.”

The boy hid his face against Hizashi’s shoulder, one of his hands coming up to curl tightly in the fabric of Hizashi’s shirt.

“I don’t know who told you that, or what else they might have lied to you about,” Hizashi continued, moving his hand to smooth Shinsou’s hair out of his face. “But I will repeat it until you stop needing me to.”

A gentle sob shook them both as Shinsou nodded.

“We brought you into our home to make certain you would be safe,” Shouta’s voice was soft, gentle in a way he never was while teaching. “It was not about doing the right thing in a general sense – Shinsou, you should have been raised knowing that you were cared for. As your teacher, I cannot show too much favoritism. As your current guardian, I can show a much bigger amount.”

Hizashi held back his laughter. “I bought you something else, by the way.”

Shinsou leaned back, trails of tears down his cheeks. “What? You didn’t have to—”

“This time, I absolutely had to.” Hizashi reached across the table, taking the plastic bag from Shouta when he picked it up and held it out. “This is yours now.”

He handed it to Shinsou.

The teenager opened the bag, his eyes going wide and his face going pale. “This is…You didn’t…I…”

“I did. You need it.” Hizashi tapped the screen, smiling when it lit up. “I already have it set up. The passcode is today’s date, so you may want to change it at some point. The option of facial recognition is waiting for you to set it. Our numbers are already programmed into it. Both of us. Our personal phones and our extensions at the school. Direct lines of communication. We want you to be able to call us if you need help, I figured this was the best way of doing that.”

 With a choked off breath, Shinsou put a hand over his mouth. The bag rustled in his hand and he looked at it, obviously realizing it was still heavy with objects. “What else—” he looked inside, hands shaking when he pulled out the headphones. Hizashi had actually bought two sets – unsure of whether Shinsou preferred in-ear or over the ear. The charger cords came next, three or four in total. The power bank followed those, then the case. “I…”

He took a deep breath, his hands getting even shakier.

“If you don’t like something, let me know. If you want something else for it, let me know.” Hizashi smiled. “I considered getting you one of those cord decorations, the ones that look like they’re chewing on the cable, but I didn’t know which one you might want.”

Shinsou set the bag down gently, storing all of the accessories and equipment back in it.

With a deep breath, he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Hizashi in a tight hug, his hands clutching tightly in the fabric of his jacket. Hizashi could feel the warmth of tears against his chest and he reached down and hugged him back, smiling the whole time. “Thank you,” Shinsou whispered. “I don’t know how I’m going to…Ever…” he took a deep breath, his entire body shaking now. “But thank you.”

Fairly distantly, Hizashi heard a waiter asking if their son was okay.

He knew, then, that he would sign adoption papers immediately if someone put them in front of him. He could already feel himself thinking of Shinsou as their son. If Shinsou chose to leave them, he would probably be heartbroken.

A glance at Shouta told him all he needed to know: his boyfriend felt the exact same way.

They had always talked about adopting a younger kid, but maybe they had been looking at it the wrong way. Maybe an older kid would be a better fit.

In particular, maybe the scared and shaking fifteen-year-old currently sobbing into his shirt was the kid they should have been looking for all this time. Hizashi rubbed a hand down his spine, murmuring soothing nonsense noises to help calm Shinsou down. The waiter caught Hizashi’s attention and he looked up, nodding when he recognized the man. He tapped the menu being held out to him, silently ordering the sesame Udon for Shinsou. Their own orders had long since been memorized by most of the staff.

Hopefully, one day, Shinsou’s would be included in the list of memorized orders for their little cluster.

Chapter Text

That night, Shinsou slept in the bedroom they had cleared out for him.

Shouta slid into his own bed, already dressed for sleep. His pajamas were almost difficult to tell apart from his uniform – except for the fabric it was made of and the number of pockets, they were very similar outfits. The shirt he wore to sleep in, however, was an old shirt Hizashi had ‘lost’ at one point. It had been in Shouta’s possession for at least six years now, washed and cared for. Hizashi paused at the bedroom door, as he always did, and watched Shouta with the same stupid smile on his face that he had worn every day for the last nine years they had lived together.

His own pajamas were the singular blue shirt Shouta had once owned and a pair of cotton shorts.

“Are you coming to bed?” Shouta asked, sitting up a little more. He curled the blankets back as Hizashi approached, his eyes bright and his cheeks pinked.

He had explained, once, that seeing Shouta in the bed they shared was enough to make him almost incoherent with happiness. Especially when he knew that Shouta was wearing something that had once belonged to him.

That had been part of why Hizashi had become the owner of the blue shirt.

However strange it might seem to anyone else, it was about linking them together. About making sure they knew the other was right there.

Hizashi curled his legs under the blanket, flopping back onto his pillow with a soft sigh. Like this, his glasses perched on the tip of his nose and his hearing aids the standard civilian ones he wore on their days off, he looked so different to his Present Mic persona. The world would never know that the voice Quirk hero was soft and quiet at home. Personas were just that – personas. A fiction created to sell an image to the world around them.

With a small chuckle, Shouta rolled into his side, rubbing his thumb along Hizashi’s jaw. The world didn’t need to know what they were like when they were home. All that mattered was that they knew what they were like.

A silence hung in the for a moment, Hizashi glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. That was an expression Shouta knew very well. It was usually followed by an odd question, a thought Hizashi could not keep silent, sometimes an anxiety he could not keep bottled up. “’Zashi?”

“We could move into a bigger apartment,” Hizashi rolled over to look at him.

Shouta huffed, a vague sound of laughter. “What?”

“To give Shinsou his own room, not just the spare. I mean…If he wants to stay living with us.” Hizashi covered his face and Shouta leaned in, kissing his way up his cheek. “Or we could get a house. Small one. Big enough for each of us to have our own work rooms, Shinsou gets a bedroom, we get a bedroom. Room for the cats to run around.” He lifted up his hand, peering through the gap at Shouta. “We can afford it.”

“The idea has some merit,” Shouta turned over, onto his stomach, crossing his arms under his chest to support himself. “What brought this about?”

“He’s going to be crowded in there,” Hizashi was almost pouting. “I could only clear out so much and I…I don’t want him to feel like he doesn’t belong here. I don’t want him to feel like he’s just an afterthought. A last-second decision. I want him to be comfortable and feel safe and—and I just…” he sighed, his arms falling to his sides as he turned his head to meet Shouta’s eyes. “I was thinking about this earlier,” his voice was softer now. “Remember when we were discussing adopting?”

“Yes,” Shouta was suddenly the furthest thing from tired.

“What if we were looking too young?” Hizashi turned onto his side, bending his arm to rest his head in his hand. “What if…What if we just adopted Shinsou? Our worries were about a little kid needing more care than we could give them, but Shinsou is a teenager. Not that he needs less emotional care and support, but he’s old enough to not need us in the apartment every hour of the day.”

“Hizashi…”

“You’re fond of him, I know you are,” Hizashi frowned, refusing to meet his eyes. “And I just…Watching him cry earlier made my chest hurt. He’s a kid, still, but he’s getting closer to adulthood. Without a family. Without a place to land when things get rough.”

Shouta knew the statistics.

Twenty percent of the children who aged out of the system would become homeless. Those without income or support would fail to recover – half of those who aged out had trouble finding employment. Shinsou had a high likelihood of just becoming another face out on the streets, even if he tried to work as a hero. Without the qualifications that graduating from the hero course would bring him, he would not be set up for success.

The equivalent of starting a race with an anchor tied to his foot.

Even though graduating from the support course would be better than nothing in his attempt to be a hero, Shinsou would likely have to become a vigilante to be anything close to what he wanted to be. With a shudder, Shouta tried to take a deep breath. It came out shaky, tears burning at the backs of his eyes. Shinsou, who worked hard to become what he wanted to be, who had gone through everything that had happened to him and still wanted to be a hero…

He would be stymied by his circumstances.

There were enough disadvantages to his goals when one took into account the class he was in and the nature of people when faced with the knowledge of his Quirk. Even some of the other teachers had whispered about it being disturbing. Shouta had done his best to silence them, but he could never be certain if they had just stopped speaking about it when he was around. Add in the pressures of growing out of a system that actively did not care for him, there was a recipe for a disaster waiting to happen.

Shouta could see it happening.

Shinsou, bright and intelligent and determined Shinsou Hitoshi, would become nothing more than a face in a crowd. Possibly, eventually, just a vague memory for those he had gone to school with.

A moment of intrigue and then gone.

“We’ll ask him,” Shouta whispered, his voice hoarse. Hizashi was right. He hadn’t wanted to think about it, but now that his boyfriend had brought it up it was all he could think about. “In the morning, we will get him ready for school. We will take him to school with us. When we all get home from school, we will talk about it.” His hands were clenched so tightly that his nails, short as they were, dug into the flesh of his palms. “I am fond of him, you are right.”

“I know you, Shou. I know how that mind of yours works. Of course I’m right,” Hizashi was tearing up, like he had been following almost the same train of thought as Shouta. “You already think of him as a son. I know we’ve had him here for only a day, but I want to keep him.”

“I do too.”

“Maybe this is why we didn’t become parents earlier,” Hizashi gently knocked their foreheads together. “Fate had a different plan for us.”

Shouta chuckled, rubbing roughly at one of his eyes to try and ward off the tears he still felt welling up. “Or perhaps you’re simply ridiculous.” He reached out and pushed Hizashi onto his back, dropping his weight onto his boyfriend’s chest. He waited for the movements to stop, for Hizashi’s hearing aids to hit the bedside table followed by his glasses.

When the noise and movement stopped, he wrapped his arms around the man, tilting his head into Hizashi’s hand when it cupped around the back of his head. Warm fingers rubbed almost roughly at the spot just below the base of his skull.

They would see what the morning was like.

In the morning, Hizashi woke Shouta up as he left the bed like he always did.

Their routine was a settled one, screaming of domesticity for anyone who cared to see it. Hizashi would leave the bed, go make breakfast, then come back and set a mug of coffee on the bedside table for Shouta. On the first day of the week, he would make omelets. The process of cooking was grounding for him, would bring him back to reality, and would let him know everything was where it should be. He had told Shouta that before. Had gone quiet and embarrassed about it when they had first moved in together.

Shouta had nodded and kissed him, telling him that they would make meal plans for their week together.

The smile on Hizashi’s face had been bright enough to rival the sun.

This morning was almost no different, despite the addition of Shinsou. When Hizashi brought him his coffee, he sat in bed for a few more minutes, holding the mug in his hands and letting it warm him slowly. The steam curled up past his face and he took several small sips of it, tasting the splash of cream and the caramel drizzle Hizashi always added for him. With the small jolt of caffeine in his system, Shouta stood up from the bed and stretched, padding out into the main part of the apartment.

Shinsou was sitting at the table, eyes wide as he watched Hizashi move around the kitchen.

Yesterday had been different than usual, all of them thrown off their schedules. Hizashi had simply called in an order to a restaurant down the road and picked it up before Shinsou had woken up.

This morning was something closer to their usual.

Shouta pulled his chair out, settling into it quietly. Shinsou turned to look at him, eyes still wide. There was something different about the way he held himself today, something a little more assured. Like he was still afraid, but tempted by the idea of comfort and safety and a steady home life. “He makes breakfast,” Shouta said, the words simple. He took another sip of his coffee. “We have about an hour and a half before we all need to be at the school. Is your bag packed?”

“Yes, Sensei.” Shinsou bowed his head a little, his hands curled together in his lap. He was wearing his uniform already, his tie neat and adjusted lower than usual.

For a moment, Shouta could only see the dark purple bruises on his kid’s throat. He blinked several times and they disappeared – they had already been healed. “You know,” he set his mug down, wrapping his hands around it to keep them from shaking in anger at the memory of the man who had dared to harm his student. “You don’t have to wear the tie.” He clenched his jaw for a second, reining in his temper. What sort of person could harm a child and feel no remorse for their actions? “I can help make certain that none of the other teachers will give you a hard time about your uniform if you wanted to take your tie off.”

Shinsou froze, eyes pinned to the tabletop, then nodded. With trembling hands, he reached up and practically ripped open the knot of the tie, his entire body shaking as he tossed it away from him.

Hizashi, chopsticks in hand, turned to watch them.

“See?” Shouta reached out a hand towards Shinsou, laying it flat on the table. Palm up and waiting with no expectation. With another nod, Shinsou lay his own hand over it, just letting it sit there as a point of contact. “I personally hate ties. Stuffy and difficult, just gets in the way.”

Bakugou Katsuki did not wear his tie either. Shouta could make certain that Shinsou was given the same pass.

With just the one change, the kid looked immediately happier. The faintly haunted look around his eyes was gone, internalized for the moment. They would have to have a talk about how Shinsou handled his emotions, maybe even set up therapy sessions for him, but it would do for now. Shouta pulled his hand away, gently ruffling Shinsou’s hair. He smiled as Shinsou made a face and reached up to smooth it back into place.

Hizashi came to join them at the table, dishing breakfast onto each of their plates.

The three of them ate together in a companionable quiet, the occasional question breaking through in a way that felt like this had always been their situation. Hizashi was right, Shouta realized.

It was like Shinsou was meant to be there with them.

The missing piece from something that, in Shouta’s mind, had always been his family. Him, his boyfriend, their three cats. It was almost too easy to fall into a framework of thoughts that referred to Shinsou as their son. They didn’t even know if he wanted to stay with them or not. With just about everything in him, every part of him wanting it so badly it almost hurt, Shouta hoped that Shinsou would stay.

Ever since he had gotten to start training the boy, he had thought of him as something like a son.

He had hoped not to show it too much when it came to his pride in how the kid learned from him, but he also hoped that Shinsou knew. He had seen something of himself in him, in the way he just wanted to help people. They were remarkably similar.

As they headed for the door, Shinsou picking up his new backpack, Shouta wanted to laugh.

He would do anything to keep any of his kids safe – his students, Shinsou, any of them. The protective urges he felt for them were nothing new. Every class of future heroes that passed through his lessons had left their mark on him.

What made Shinsou different, however, was that he needed a family.

And perhaps Hizashi was right.

Perhaps they were the family that needed him. As they locked up the apartment, Shinsou’s purple bag shuffling on his back as he adjusted the straps, Shouta made a mental note to speak with Principal Nezu. Perhaps they could do something about Shinsou’s placement. He knew that Shinsou’s scores were good. Mental Quirks never tested against robots well.

He knew, without a doubt, that the system had been set against Shinsou from the start.

Chapter Text

Hizashi was never one to have much of a quickfire temper.

Shouta was often the one springing to anger when it was required. He had been the one leading the charge that had gotten Oboro out of his family’s house, when that had been a concern. They had both showed up and bundled their friend’s things together, moving him into the spare bedroom in Hizashi’s house. His parents had been surprised but welcoming. Another teenager to watch over hadn’t been much of a burden for them at all.

Oboro had lived with them until his death.

In the teacher’s lounge, however, he heard something that raised his temper to boiling in seconds. Ito Aika, the teacher of class 1C, was sitting across the room from him. He could hear the words she was saying.

Did she not realize how horrible it sounded?

“No student who wants to be a hero should have a Quirk like that,” she was laughing as she spoke, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I have a couple who are not meant for the hero course. I am doing my best to keep them in the support courses where they belong – their Quirks are dangerous if they were to become heroes.” She made a face, taking a sip of her tea.

As the homeroom teacher of 1C, Hizashi had a feeling he knew exactly who she was talking about.

Shinsou was in a lesson with Thirteen, right now.

Standing up, Hizashi did his best to act casual as he crossed the room. “Oh? Ito-san, which students are dangerous?” he stood next to her table, watching as the other teacher she was sitting with jolted out of surprise. “I should know, just in case I need to keep an eye on them during class.”

Ito looked at him, her eyes wide. “Present Mic, I didn’t—”

“Or were you just making generalizations about the Quirks that our students cannot control, hm?” Hizashi grinned, though he knew there was nothing kind about his expression right then. Shouta had faced this sort of discrimination before and even if he hadn’t been thinking about adopting Shinsou, it had never sat right with him. “Were you discounting their personalities and their personal goals in favor of marking them as possible future villains without even thinking about what they might want?”

“Present Mic—”

“Or maybe,” he pulled out a chair and sat down at the table with her. The other teacher stood up and got out of his seat, backing away with his hands up. Hizashi’s speaker was trembling around his neck when he spoke, his Quirk on the verge of activating. “Maybe you were trying to cast them as villains. Tell me, do you encourage the ‘safer’ Quirks to be afraid of them? Do you assign them the worst tasks, to make this all seem like a useless venture?” Hizashi put his hands on the table, palms together, before curling his fingers down. He pointed at her with his two first fingers, still grinning. There was a sharp edge to it, he knew that.

Shouta had always said that he was a little terrifying when his good mood dropped.

Ito sat there, her eyes wide, a nervous smile on her face. “I don’t…I mean…”

“From what I can see,” Hizashi continued, ignoring the faint protests from her. “You are actively discriminating against some of the students in your class. You are the homeroom teacher of class 1C, Ito Aika. You are supposed to be better about not gossiping about your students. What’s more, you seem to be completely unaware when one of them is being actively abused.”

“…Abused?”

“If your personal vendetta weren’t enough, his home life was a nightmare. He has been removed from that house following an attempt on his life by his foster.” Hizashi stood up, leaning on the table, his palms flat. “Shinsou Hitoshi is going to be removed from you class, if I have anything to say about it. He will be transferred to the hero course, where he belongs, because that boy has more good in him than you do. Even with everything that has happened to him, he still wants to save people. He still wants to help.”

Moving away from the table, Hizashi looked back over his shoulder. “Maybe you should pay more attention to your students instead of insulting them behind their backs.”

She sat there, silent, as he walked away.

A hand dropped onto Hizashi’s shoulder, guiding him away from his previous seat. “C’mon Hizashi,” Nemuri’s voice was soft for once, her usual attitude tucked away. “I heard what you just said, follow me.” She curled her hand around his arm, giving him no room to argue. The hallways were empty as they walked, her heels clicking on the floor with every step and the sound echoing. “She has no business saying anything like that. I came in just as you stood up but I heard her from the hallway.”

She draped her arm around his shoulders, holding him close as they walked.

Hizashi felt his anger draining back down again, nodding. “She has no right. Not to say things like that. Not when she was unaware of or ignoring the signs.”

“Shinsou…Hitoshi, right?”

“Yes.” Hizashi nodded. “He’s the one Shouta chose to train personally. A little version of him, almost. A similar type of Quirk, the same strong urge to help others. Even if Shouta tries to hide it, I know he feels the same way about saving people.”

“I know,” Nemuri patted his back, sighing. “What happened to the kid?”

“His foster tried to kill him. Tried to strangle him. According to Shinsou the man’s wife left him almost two weeks ago, causing the abuse to focus directly on him instead of being shared between the two of them. When we were called in, Shinsou had handprints on his throat, Nemuri.” Hizashi looked at her, feeling helpless as he recalled how the kid had looked. There had been something so close to acceptance in his eyes, something that looked so much like giving up. “He spent a year in that foster.”

“…A year?” Nemuri’s eyes were wide.

People often forgot, whether through intentional distancing on her part or otherwise, that Nemuri had been there to see what had happened with Oboro. She had been with them, that day, as a precaution. Hizashi had approached her and begged for her help, not even managing to get the full question out before she had been agreeing.

“A year,” Hizashi nodded.

Nemuri put a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and her face pale. She knew what a year meant in a situation that was like that. It was dangerous, the risk to the life of the person growing with every moment. Oboro had been lucky – none of them had been willing to let him stay there. Nemuri had been prepared to subdue his parents. Shouta had been furious, his eyes glowing golden, his Quirk activated almost the whole time. Hizashi had been in Oboro’s room, helping his friend pack with the speed of lightning. The whole process had only taken forty minutes, in the end. They had each carried a box, so few belongings that Oboro had claim to that they hadn’t even needed a third of the space in Nemuri’s car.

“What is happening to Shinsou now?” she asked after a while. “Where is he going – where is he staying? Does he need someplace to go?”

“We’re hoping to talk to him about that today,” Hizashi smiled. It was faint thing and he almost didn’t want to. “Shouta and I – we’re talking about adopting him. We need to speak with him about it, but he is currently living with us. If we are allowed it, we want to push for a formal adoption. No more foster system for him, no more dangerous adults who try to hurt him. He would be our son.”

Nemuri laughed, color slowly returning to her face. “I know you’ve talked about adopting before.”

“This time is different,” Hizashi’s smile felt more natural now, growing until he felt the tightness in his chest go loose. “He wouldn’t need constant supervision, not like a younger kid would. He needs care and love and a home and we can give him those things. Shouta is already attached and honestly,” he laughed. “So am I. He has lived with us for two days and I have bought him so much stuff to try and make sure he knows that he’ll get what he needs.”

“Good,” Nemuri sighed. “We’ve gone through this before. I know we have – this feels distinctly familiar. I know…I know we don’t talk about him often, but Oboro…Oboro would be proud of you. I know he would be. You’re refusing to let another kid get hurt.”

“…That helps. Thank you.”

She tugged him down by the collar of his jacket, cupping her hand over the edge of his speaker. With a small noise, she kissed his forehead. Nemuri had never been afraid to show casual affection to the people she cared about. Hizashi had always counted himself lucky that he was one of those people. Shouta was as well, but as it was with many things, he had trouble showing it. It flustered him, his anxiety on a constant feedback loop in his mind. He always came across as aloof and uncaring if you didn’t know him, but Hizashi knew him better than anyone else.

That was part of the reason he always bought him small gifts. Nothing big, never anything that would cause Shouta to panic, but small things almost every day. Food or a keychain or something he needed.

Constantly showing him how much he loved him.

Nemuri walked with him in silence for a while, both of them moving almost mindlessly. When they arrived at Nezu’s office door, Hizashi looked at Nemuri and nodded.

Nemuri nodded back.

As with most things in life, it only took a moment. A single movement, a second of time, for everything to change.

Hizashi knocked on the door.

Leaving Nezu’s office was an entirely different experience than it had ever been before.

The principal had been shocked to hear what Ito had said, backed by both of them. Since Shouta had called and explained some of the situation the day before, Nezu had known of the treatment Shinsou had received, the transfer of his living situation, and that Hizashi and Shouta were intent on helping him. Nemuri had stood at Hizashi’s side while they explained, her hands clasped behind her back. Her jaw had been clenched the entire time, listening to Hizashi laying out the situation in full.

“I will speak with Aizawa,” Nezu’s voice had been oddly calm, his paws tapping against his desk. There had been an undercurrent of anger in his words, though he did not seem angry at them. “Ito-san had no right speaking of students like that. We are meant to be helping them.”

Hizashi had heard, many times, about Nezu’s ideals. How he wanted to help young villains, how he thought they could be rehabilitated and taught better if they just tried.

If they were allowed to try.

Hizashi and Nemuri were walking away from his office when his voice came from behind them. “Nezu?” Nemuri turned, her eyebrows drawn as she looked at their boss. “What is—”

“Shinsou Hitoshi is going to be temporarily moved from class 1C,” Nezu came to a stop next to them, huffing out a breath. “I will speak with Aizawa in regards to this, but I know Shinsou’s file was bigger than this when it came to me the first time,” he held out a folder, frowning as he did. “His entrance exam scores are missing, his recommendations are missing. All that is in here is the most basic of information about him.”

With a small noise, Hizashi took the folder from him, flipping through it quickly.

Nezu was right.

All that the folder contained was a basic profile of Shinsou, a brief rundown of his Quirk, and his personality tests. All of his medical paperwork was missing, anything that would refer to his ability to succeed as a student, everything other than the most basic necessities had gone missing.

“Which class would he be in right now?” Nezu’s paws were pressed together in front of him. “Do either of you know?”

Shinsou had told Hizashi his school schedule the day before. “Mathematics,” Hizashi spoke up quickly. “He is in class with Ectoplasm right now. Do we need to—”

“Yes, I think it is better safe than sorry,” Nezu nodded, taking the lead for a moment until Hizashi reached down and picked him up. Nezu settled onto his shoulder as they moved, one of his paws clenching around the edge of Hizashi’s speaker. “I do not know what is happening, but there is a possibility he is in danger. I do not wish for a student to be harmed, not when we can do something about it.” He hummed as Hizashi took a corner at a higher speed, Nemuri’s heels clattering against the floor behind them.

Barely pausing to collect himself, Hizashi knocked on the door to 1C’s classroom, waiting for Ectoplasm to call for them to enter.

The entire class turned to look at them, the students all wide-eyed at seeing the three of them standing there. “Shinsou Hitoshi,” Nezu waved at the class. “May we speak with you?” he watched as Shinsou nodded, standing up slowly. “I would suggest you bring your things with you,” Nezu spoke gently but the words made Shinsou go stiff anyway. Hizashi wanted to wrap him in a hug, protect him from whatever was coming.

That thought was almost reflexive. He knew now—he was going to bring up adopting Shinsou again and hope that Shinsou would agree.

Ectoplasm approached them, leaving his textbooks at the front of the classroom. “Is everything alright, sir?” he directed his question to Nezu, glancing at Hizashi and Nemuri. “Is there a threat on campus? Or is something happening with his family?” he looked down when Shinsou came to a stop close by, his hands clenched tightly around the straps of his bag. “Shinsou? Do you know what might be happening?”

“There is a possible security breach,” Nezu lowered his voice. “Shinsou, your file is missing papers. I do not know when such a thing might have happened. I do not know why. I am sorry for this.” He looked at Hizashi. “We must go speak with Aizawa.”

Shinsou’s eyes were wide, the dark circles under them making him look oddly terrified.

With a hum, Hizashi held out his hand once they had left the classroom. Shinsou took it quickly, his fingers curling into Hizashi’s palm. He walked close to Hizashi’s side, his other hand white-knuckled on his bag’s strap. “It’ll be okay,” Hizashi whispered to him. Shinsou nodded, not replying in any other way. They stayed next to each other the entire way to Shouta’s classroom, Shinsou seeming to refuse to leave his side.

He couldn’t blame him.

When they knocked on the door to Shouta’s class, there was an odd sort of hush that fell. Shouta turned to look through the window, his usual frown growing deeper. Hizashi waved to him, smiling sheepishly. Nezu was still sat on his shoulder, Nemuri standing behind him. Through the glass, Hizashi was sure, Shinsou wasn’t visible.

Shouta moved across the room, turning to make some statement to his class, before he opened the door and slipped out into the hallway. Briefly, Hizashi thought, he could hear some of the students asking what was happening. “What?” he asked. He always tried to get immediately to the point, the personality he carried at school brusque and unwilling to waste time. He paused when he saw Shinsou, eyes darting back up to meet Hizashi’s. There was a moment in there, Hizashi inclining his head as Shouta stared at him. With a quick breath, Shouta was asking if Shinsou was hurt. The minute shake of Hizashi’s head negated it.

His work personality melted away as he moved to stand on Shinsou’s other side, a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Nezu-san?”

“His files have been tampered with,” Nezu explained once more. “I had thought to ask you if you would not mind taking on another student, at the very least temporarily, earlier. When I discovered that his files had been altered, papers missing, I changed my mind and chose to come speak with you now. Would you be alright with Shinsou Hitoshi being moved to your class?”

Hizashi felt Shinsou squeeze his hand tighter.

“I would not mind it at all,” Shouta bowed his head to Nezu. He looked down at Shinsou. “Are you all prepared for such a change?”

“…I have all of my stuff,” Shinsou’s voice was carefully blank, a screaming difference from how he was at home with them. “What happens if my files are altered?” He looked between all of them, his brow drawn down. “Am I held accountable?”

“No,” Nemuri crouched down in front of him, smiling like she was trying to reassure. “Nothing like that. It means we worry about who might have taken them and why. It means we increase security. It means we move you into your guardian’s classroom to let him keep his eyes on you. You’ll have lessons with both of your current guardians – while we figure this out, you are getting moved to class 1A.” she glanced up at Nezu, who nodded. “We keep a close eye on you to make certain you’re safe.”

“Are the both of you alright with this?” Nezu turned to look at Shouta first, glancing at Hizashi out of the corner of his eye.

“Yes,” they spoke in synch, no hesitation for either of them.

Hizashi continued to hold Shinsou’s hand for the moment. He was aware that Shinsou seemed to want an anchor.

He would willingly be such a thing.

Chapter Text

“All of you had better behave,” Shouta called out as he re-entered the classroom.

Shinsou was trailing behind him, eyes pinned on the floor, both of his hands holding tightly to his backpack straps. He stopped when Shouta did, turning to face the rest of the class. “This is Shinsou Hitoshi,” Shouta continued, watching his students carefully. “For at least the time being, he is going to be joining us in class. If any of you mistreat him, I will find out.”

Midoriya perked up in his seat, biting his bottom lip as he studied Shinsou. Shouta knew he would probably be the first one to approach Shinsou, offer his friendship. He had done the same thing to Todoroki, after all.

Bakugou sneered, looking away. After a moment, with a careful glance, he looked back at Shinsou. The recent development of his friendship with Kirishima had been a blessing in some ways, Shouta thought. He seemed to be studying Shinsou with something like concern in his eyes. After all, if someone looked close enough, Shinsou’s anxiety was clear to see. Shouta kept an eye on his class as the door opened again, Hizashi dragging in a chair and a temporary desk that he settled next to the wall. Shinsou was going to be sitting next to Asui, then.

He would have to thank Hizashi for that particular choice.

Asui was a kind girl, fairly quiet. She wouldn’t overwhelm Shinsou with her energy levels and she wouldn’t startle him with fast movements. As he thought that, Shouta noticed something else as well.

Kaminari was watching Shinsou, his head tilted to one side. He had the end of his charger cable stuck in his mouth, his phone on the surface of his desk, the screen facing down. His hands were in his lap, fiddling with the edge of his coat, his leg bouncing gently. His eyes were wide as he watched Shinsou, his cheeks slowly turning a soft pink color. After a moment in which Shouta did his best to keep his sigh internal, turning to look at Shinsou. “Hizashi brought that desk in for you,” he muttered. “If you feel lost in the lessons, speak with me after class. I am going to be finding you when the day is over – I would feel more comfortable with us staying together given the current situation.”

Shinsou nodded and moved towards his temporary desk, settling into the chair and setting his bag on the floor by his feet. He pulled out his notebook, looking at what Shouta had written on the board. With no other announcements to give, Shouta turned back to the board himself.

Clearing his throat, he nodded and picked the lesson back up.

“Sensei?” He paused, taking a deep breath to keep himself calm. Mineta’s hand was in the air when he turned back around. “I was just wondering…Why is one of the support class members here?” he fidgeted in his seat, frowning. When he looked at Shinsou, looking him up and down, Shouta could see the derision in his eyes. “If they haven’t passed the tests to make it into our course, no other students should be here.”

The entirety of the class seemed to be holding their breath after his words, all of them looking slightly nervous.

“He is here, Mineta, because there is a potential threat on his life. I am his current guardian and Principal Nezu felt that it was better if I could keep an eye on him, given that information.” Shouta snapped the book he had just picked back up shut. The sound of it echoed, almost threatening. “Is this a problem for you? Because there is the door.” He gestured towards the entryway. “Hear this now,” he addressed all of them, watching them all sit up straighter in their seats. “You are in the hero course. What I am about to say is important.”

He waited until every pair of eyes was on him.

“If someone needs help, no matter what kind it is – if there is danger to their life, someone stalking or threatening them, you help.” He made eye contact with Mineta, watching the boy shrink back in his chair. “Until we find how much of a danger there is, Shinsou will be in class with us. He is capable of sitting quietly and following along with lessons. Are you?”

Iida was glancing between Shinsou and Shouta, his eyes narrowed. After a second, looking so much like his brother that it was almost startling, Iida nodded. He leaned forward in his seat, reaching out until his fingers touched the edge of Shinsou’s chair.

Shinsou glanced at him, looking down at his fingers. When he looked up at Iida, Shinsou nodded slowly, looking a little less shellshocked.

Shouta wanted to smile at that.

Alliances were made in the classroom, he knew that. If he was correct, Iida had just offered one to Shinsou. Asui reached out and put her hand on Shinsou’s desk, meeting Shouta’s eyes and nodding. He could see the determined expression on her face, the way she squared her shoulders. She had performed particularly well when the USJ had been under attack. She knew when to step in. He nodded back at her, turning back to Mineta. “Does that answer your question?”

Mineta shrunk even further back in his seat, silent.

Midoriya looked over at Shinsou again, his jaw clenching as he sat up a little straighter. Shouta wanted to speak with him after class – the kid had some of the best notes he had ever seen. Shinsou would need someone to catch him up.

“Then on with the lesson,” he turned away again, paging through the book to find where he had left off.

When the lesson ended, Shouta called for Midoriya to stay.

Shinsou was hesitating at the door, his bag tucked against his chest as he watched the rest of the class exit. “Shinsou, could you come here?” Shouta said, watching the anxiety slip away as Shinsou moved back towards him. Midoriya stood in front of him as well, his own bag perched on the edge of a desk. “Midoriya, Shinsou will need someone to help catch him up on the lessons we have already had. Your notes are perfect for that sort of thing.”

Midoriya hesitated, his mouth hanging open, before he went pink and nodded. “Yes Sensei!” he bowed quickly, pulling his notebook back out of his bag. “Here, Shinsou. Did you want me to help you go over everything or did you just want to borrow my notes?”

Blinking, Shinsou looked at Midoriya, his own mouth falling open. “I…What?”

“If you need to catch up on our lessons,” Midoriya stepped closer to him, holding out his notebook. “I won’t make you study with me, if you aren’t comfortable with it.”

With a small smile, Shouta went to pack up his things, half-listening as the two boys continued speaking. “You are welcome to bring study sessions to the apartment,” Shouta spoke up after a few minutes. “If meeting in the library or the study halls will not work for the scheduling of it, we can make room in the main room of the apartment.” He slung his bag over his shoulder, then moved back towards them. His smile was still in place as he looked at Shinsou, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Midoriya, he is living with us. If you need to come over to help, that would be fine.”

“You are the teacher,” Shinsou frowned, looking up at him. After a moment, he seemed to realize there might have been an insult in what he said. “Not that you are not good in class,” he directed the words to Midoriya. “I just…I meant…”

“I have the lesson plans,” Shouta decided to help him out. “And I can explain them in a way that a teacher can – that is to say, I can explain them as someone who knows all the underlying details of them. What I do not have is the ability to explain them to someone else who is still learning as someone who is still learning them myself. I cannot give you mnemonics to help you memorize the facts you need to remember. I leave those up to my students.”

“I have a list of all the ones me and my friends use,” Midoriya had softened his voice to speak to Shinsou. “Iida uses rhythm to remember. Asui uses motions. Uraraka highlights everything and organizes in particular ways. I think,” he looked up at Shouta, biting his lip. “I think what he’s saying is that I can help you run through all the systems I know and help you find what works best for you.”

“Precisely,” Shouta nodded. “I do not know much, yet, about your studying methods. I would like to learn them so I can better help you, but I am starting from absolute scratch. From zero.”

“Oh,” Shinsou blinked a couple of times, then nodded. “Then yes. I would like to study with you.” He hesitated, then looked at the ground. “…Do you remember what my Quirk is?” he glanced up at Midoriya, who tilted his head. “Brainwashing. I can control people. When they respond to me. People don’t like talking to me, usually. I just wanted you to know before you were scheduled to work with me.” He wrapped his arms tighter around his bag, squeezing it to his chest. “Most people want me to stay away from them.” He looked at the ground again. “You faced me in the sports festival, but I don’t know if you ever knew the full…” he cleared his throat.

“Okay.” Midoriya nodded. “Is…Do you need help learning to control it?”

“No!” Shinsou looked panicked for a second. “I’ve got it under control, I promise.”

“Okay. Okay.” Midoriya spoke slowly, confused, his head still tilted. “Is there any reason you brought it up? I mean…You know how to control it. I know you want to be a hero, so I know you aren’t going to use it against me for no reason.” He shrugged when Shinsou stared at him. “I don’t know why I…Do you think I’m going to be afraid of you?” Blinking, Midoriya looked at Shouta. “Do you want me to be afraid of you?”

Shinsou was tearing up, Shouta could tell. “Most people are.” He whispered.

“Honestly, I’m more confused as to why you’re living with Aizawa-Sensei.” Midoriya shrugged. “But you have control over your Quirk. You aren’t the type to abuse it.” He smiled, tucking his notebook away. “Meet up with me before class starts tomorrow, okay? I’ll give you a quick rundown of previous lessons, then we can go into detail later.”

Pulling his bag on, Midoriya smiled as he walked out, waving to both of them.

“I…” Shinsou took a deep breath, tears starting to run down his cheeks. He clasped a hand over his mouth, his breath coming out in sharp bursts that had to be doing nothing good for his anxiety levels. “I just…” he turned and shoved his face into Shouta’s shoulder, hands clinging tightly to his shirt.

Shouta just held him, letting him cry. “People actually want you around?” he whispered. “Is that the new thing?”

He could feel Shinsou’s nod.

“Yeah, that one was a new one for me, too. Until I was practically stalked by a couple of loud idiots.” He chuckled when Shinsou snorted, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “Haven’t managed to get rid of one of those loud idiots,” he continued like Shinsou hadn’t started laughing. “In fact, it’s worse now. I live with him.”

They stayed there for a few minutes, Shinsou letting himself relax into the unexpected hug.

“We should go find Hizashi,” Shouta let Shinsou leave the hug first, smiling when the boy looked up at him. He was glad to be a source of comfort for him. “It is time to go home.”

They walked out of the classroom together, Shinsou keeping perfect time with Shouta. The boy still looked sideswiped, like an absolutely too-powerful strike had knocked him to his knees. Out of the corner of his eye, Shouta spotted Shinsou mouthing the word ‘home’ like it was a new concept to him. “There was something we wanted to discuss with you,” he said when they had made it outside. A way’s away, Shouta could see Hizashi walking alongside Toshinori, probably still discussing the possibility of a security breach. “Something fairly important.”

“Alright,” Shinsou nodded, wiping off his cheeks one last time. “Is it something I—”

“You are not in any sort of trouble,” Shouta reassured him. “Trust me. We just need your opinion on something.”

Hizashi had spotted them, saying his goodbyes to Toshinori before jogging their way. Sometimes it was hilarious to watch Hizashi try to jog – his boyfriend was not exactly meant for running. Not in his hero outfit. His boots were heavy to help counteract any possible blowback from his Quirk and he wore leather to help himself be resistant to any villain that might have sharp Quirks. He was not a hero made for running up and getting in close. He was made for long-ranged attacks. On his rare days off, Hizashi made it a goal to at least go running around the block, but that was in a pair of running shorts and a tank top.

“There you are!” he greeted them both with a smile, patting the top of Shinsou’s head and nudging Shouta’s shoulder with his elbow.

“We can talk about it when we are home.” Shouta said, smiling at Hizashi.

Chapter Text

Having gotten his hair down out of the signature style he wore it in as a hero, Hizashi joined his little group out in the main room of the apartment.

“Okay, so,” he pulled his laptop onto the top of the kotatsu, watching as Shouta curled up to it. He always had liked the heat of it – his boyfriend was like an overgrown cat, sometimes. Tuna was half-perched on his lap, Salmon wrapped around his neck. Both of them were purring loudly, filling the comfortable silence of the apartment. Shinsou smiled at the sight of Shouta, nearly squeaking when Pepper jumped up onto his shoulder. The two of them looked perfect like that. Father and son, matching personalities, similar Quirks, the same love of cats. “I found some options for something. Shinsou, we were thinking about things and…Well.” he turned his computer around.

“These are the ones I narrowed it down to,” Hizashi continued. “We were thinking about getting a bigger house.”

Shouta smiled, turning his head so that Shinsou wouldn’t see his expression.

“A bigger house?” Shinsou blinked a couple of times, frowning as he tried to work through something in his head. “Can I ask why?”

“We wanted to make sure we had space for everyone,” Hizashi shrugged. “Get you your own room. It’s cramped in that one, I know for a fact. I couldn’t get everything cleared out, so there’s all my stuff all over the place. And, well, you’re a teenager. You need your own space, even if all you want to do is clear your head. Given that you seem to be introverted like Shouta, I figure you need a place of your own to hide from people when you’ve had enough.” He laced his fingers together on the tabletop, waiting for a response. “These are the options I found today.”

Shinsou’s eyes were wide, his expression vulnerable and open for once. “You don’t have to—I am happy with the room I have,” he looked down at the table, his hands clenching on the surface of it. “There is nothing wrong with the room I have been given.” He whispered. “It’s more than I expected – more than you should have been expecting to give. I came out of nowhere, I’m an expense you weren’t—”

“Kid,” Shouta leaned down until their eyes met, Salmon meowing plaintively on his shoulder. “Shinsou, look at me.”

Shinsou stopped babbling, his mouth snapping shut with a soft clicking noise.

“We want to do this,” Shouta’s voice was soft. If his students could see him now, none of them would believe it. “We want to keep you around. You need more room – Hizashi is right. This apartment is too small. We run over each other enough as it is, even when it was just the two of us. We aren’t going to expect you to be alright with constantly being near everyone else.”

“So we decided to come up with something else,” Hizashi spoke up again, reaching a hand across the table. He settled it gently over Shinsou’s wrist. “Shouta tasked me with finding a new place. These are the options to choose from. Based on distance from the school, from the radio station, from several other considerations. There are parks nearby to all of them, places to go on walks if you want to. There are gyms nearby as well, swimming pools and such. If you want, we can also get you a membership to those sorts of things.” He could feel Shinsou tensing up under his hand. “It’s okay to want things,” Hizashi reminded him. “And we’re having you help us choose because…Well…”

He stumbled on his words, trying to figure out how to explain it to a boy who had no concept of permanence when it came to people.

“We want you to stay with us,” Shouta picked up his slack. “I do not know what your future plans are, other than becoming a hero, but we will always have room for you.” He smiled again, reaching up to pet Salmon. The cat meowed again, butting his head into Shouta’s ear. “Forever. You can come home at thirty and we will still have a room for you.”

Tears were rolling down Shinsou’s cheeks by the time Shouta finished. “Home,” he was hoarse as he said the word, looking between them. “I—” he took a deep breath. “Okay,” he whispered, nodding.

“So help us choose,” Hizashi did his best to keep his own tears under control. He moved around the kotatsu, settling in next to Shinsou, putting their kid between them. It felt comfortable like that – his boyfriend on one side, him on the other. Shinsou was their kid in his head now, nothing could change that. He clicked through the options, explaining details on each of them. There was one that made Shinsou perk up a little more, a garden out back with a small pond. “That one?” he asked, clicking on it. “Oh, I remember that one. I liked it too. Shouta?”

Shouta nodded, tilting his head to one side as he read the listing details. “That is a good amount of space,” he pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and first finger, rolling it as he read. “I do like the garden as well.”

Shinsou blinked a couple of times, looking astounded as he saw more photos of the house.

“Several bedrooms,” Hizashi pointed out. “Two of them have their own bathrooms. I was thinking one of those is Shinsou’s, one is ours. An office for Shouta and a music room for me. Four bedrooms in total. four bathrooms. A nice kitchen,” he hummed as he looked at that photo. The idea of cooking for the three of them, his little family, in their new home was a nice one. He saw a darkness in Shinsou’s eyes for a moment. “I work three jobs, he works two. Between us, we can more than afford this.”

Pepper mewled, nearly sliding off of Shinsou’s shoulder and into his lap. He caught her, cuddling her close to his chest. “I—Alright.” He nodded.

“Nothing that we have done is more than what is supposed to be done,” Hizashi leaned a little closer to him. “And honestly, I need to work on that. Currently doing the bare minimum for you – that’s not an acceptable level for me. You deserve to feel safe and comfortable in this world.” He grinned, gesturing at the screen. “I do like this one. Anyone else?”

“I like it,” Shouta nodded. “Shinsou?”

“Yeah,” Shinsou nodded, his next breath almost sounding like a gasp. He looked down at Pepper, ruffling the fur on her stomach gently. “I love it,” he whispered.

“I can get started on drafting the letter,” Shouta leaned across, behind Shinsou’s head, and kissed Hizashi stroking fingers down his cheek. Hizashi could tell that his boyfriend was pleased. He was radiating his own brand of happiness, his soft smile on display as he looked at Hizashi. There would be offers to make, things to plan, people to contact, but this was the start of it. Shinsou looked at both of them, a small noise in the back of his throat barely reaching Hizashi’s ears before he ducked his face into the fluff of Pepper’s stomach.

Shouta ruffled his hair, smiling at Hizashi over their kid’s head. More and more, Hizashi was liking the sound of that. Their kid. Their kid. He flipped screens on his computer, moving away from Shinsou to give him some space. He put a hand on his shoulder, patting soothingly. The requirements for adoption were on his screen and he chewed on the inside of his bottom lip as he looked through them.

Hizashi turned his screen so that Shouta could see it and smiled when his boyfriend nodded.

Shinsou was their kid. If they had to fight the legal system to make it so, they would. They were two Pro Heroes in good standing – if anyone had a problem with them adopting a kid to make the kid’s life less miserable, they could take it up with them directly.

Flipping back to the profile of the house they had decided on, Hizashi opened up his email and began drafting an opening introduction.

Shouta could take care of the letter offering to buy the house. He was better at introducing himself and forming a good relationship through writing than Shouta was – they took things in turn, working well together. They always had. Hizashi had to think, somewhere out there in whatever afterlife there was, that Oboro would be proud of them. They had stayed together in the world despite the loss of their best friend. They were only just into their thirties, with three cats, looking into buying a house and adopting a kid.

Oboro had encouraged them to talk to each other, to tell the other how they felt.

Unbeknownst to them at the time, he had listened to both of them suffering quietly. Oboro had never been about keeping his feelings quiet. No matter what, he had always told Hizashi, you needed to tell the person.

He had always pointed out that heroes sometimes didn’t have the longest of life spans.

You made do with what you had. You didn’t waste time.

Reaching behind Shinsou, Hizashi took Shouta’s hand, interlocking their fingers so that their palms pressed together. Waking up to see him every day was a treasure. Knowing that he would go to sleep next to the man he loved was a thing that almost brought him to tears. Shouta would be there in the morning, sleepy and messy and wearing his old shirt. Hizashi would be there too, to bring him coffee and watch him wake up slowly, his eyes sleepy as he stumbled around their home.

God, he just loved the man so much.

Shouta had been there for the slow loss of his hearing over the years, his Quirk proving to be damaging even to his own ears. He had been the one to commission Hizashi’s headphones, the ones that worked as a communicator on top of his hearing aids.

Which was why, as he looked through the requirements for adoption again, he knew what he was going to do.

They had spoken about every aspect of their life together.

There were times they had trouble communicating, of course. Every couple had a problem at least once, times where they got frustrated and panicked and worried. But for the most part, they had managed to talk about things. They had discussed marriage before – it hadn’t been legal at first, and then there hadn’t really been any reason to do anything about it.

All marriage really was in the eyes of the law was a signed piece of paper and a pair of rings.

Hizashi felt a warmth in his chest at the idea, however. It was still a requirement for adoption and he would happily be tied to Shouta for the rest of his life. They would be a little family. They already were, despite the legalities not being taken care of yet, but putting a title and rings to it made him feel dizzy. He wanted it.

With a deep breath, Hizashi minimized the screen and closed his laptop.

He was still holding Shouta’s hand.

Shinsou was still roughly between them, his face buried in Pepper’s belly as he scratched gently at the top of her head. Despite the unfazed and nearly blank front he put on at school, Shinsou was very easily overwhelmed. He was a quiet kid who reminded Hizashi of Shouta and that thought instantly made him want to protect him.

With a sinking feeling in his chest, Hizashi pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and sending off a text to Nezu.

He had a feeling he knew who had altered Shinsou’s files.

Ito Aika, known as ‘QuickGrowth’, had been badmouthing Shinsou the other day. She had been insulting several of the students in 1C, actually. Frowning, Hizashi added to his string of messages, telling Nezu to check the files of 1C’s students. The files of the ones who might be seen as dangerous by someone unwilling to deal with powerful Quirks that might be called a Villain’s power.

Within minutes, Nezu had responded.

Hizashi’s heart sank as he read the response.

He had been right.

There were several files missing, a handful of students who had apparently been chosen as villains by their teacher.

With one last text, Nezu informed Hizashi that he would be pulling the security camera feeds. He thanked Hizashi for the information and the hint. “I’m fine,” Hizashi whispered when Shouta asked. He was trying to keep himself calm in front of Shinsou. Their son didn’t need any more anger in his life. “Just contacting Nezu.”

Shouta’s eyes narrowed. From the look on his face, they would be spending some time speaking about it before they slept.

Shinsou appeared to be blocking out the world still, humming as he cuddled Pepper.

Chapter Text

The next day at school started normally.

Shinsou still wasn’t wearing his tie. Shouta wasn’t going to force him to – every time he so much as thought of his kid putting one on, he remembered the handprints on his throat. The uniform rule could be ignored, for the time being, it wouldn’t hurt anyone. Hizashi walked with them for once, supposedly to just see them off to their first class. Shouta knew better, however.

His boyfriend had been getting texts from Nezu since the night before, updating him on the situation.

There was supposed to be a meeting later in the day. The two of them, Nezu, and Ito herself. Nezu wanted to find out what was happening from her point of view, why she might have taken a student’s files. Hizashi had said there was something else to it as well, but he had refused to tell Shouta. With his boyfriend’s worry still unsettling him, Shouta reached out and curled their hands together for a moment. They were at the door of his classroom, Shinsou standing just a few feet away.

Shouta knew his students would not say anything if they saw them together.

Those who came early included Iida, who Shouta had watched grow up. Uraraka would probably rather face the League of Villains on her own than hurt anyone with rumors. Todoroki didn’t seem to care much about…Anything, really.

None of his students would say anything about whatever they might see.

“I’ll see you later,” Hizashi bumped their foreheads together, a smiling twisting his lips. He glanced at Shinsou, a softness in his eyes. “Take care of him today, okay?”

“Of course I will,” Shouta rolled his own eyes, shaking his head. “What kind of teacher do you take me for?”

They separated slowly, Hizashi tucking his hands into his pockets and wandering off down the hallway. Shouta watched him go, taking a deep breath before he opened the door of the classroom. “…You two don’t show much affection at school,” Shinsou’s words were quiet. Much like Shouta did, he had a persona he wore in public. He was a little too good at hiding his actual personality, a little too well-versed in keeping parts of himself hidden. “Can I ask why?”

There would have to be discussions about how and why Shinsou had covered his bruises, kept the abuse to himself.

Shouta had a feeling it would boil down to ‘not wanting to be a bother’. Oboro’s reasons always had. “We decided not to be too public with our relationship,” he answered after a minute, entering the room. The students would be confused at finding him there first for once, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Not so much out of worry, but because it seemed logical. A known weakness is a dangerous thing. If a villain found out that Hizashi and I are together, they could use me to get to him or him to get to me,” he pulled his bag off his shoulder, setting it down and looking through it. Silence reigned for a little while before Shouta sighed. “That isn’t to say you shouldn’t seek a relationship.”

Shinsou leaned against a desk, his arms wrapped loosely around his bag. “Is a relationship even…What if…”

“Kid?”

“Is it worth it?”

Looking up, Shouta watched as Shinsou shuffled awkwardly, looking out the window. He had a near perfect memory of the time Hizashi had been in the hospital after some villain took a baseball bat to his throat, striking when Hizashi had been distracted by Shouta’s broken leg. That had been before the current design of his speaker. The time he had woken up to see Hizashi passed out at his side, Nemuri’s jacket laid out over him, both of his hands grasping Shouta’s. He had overused his Quirk until his eyes had bled because someone with a Quirk similar to Hizashi’s had kept singing. Her Quirk had been a lure type of voice Quirk, however, and she had been using it to get people to throw themselves off of buildings.

They had ended up in the hospital for the sake of keeping the other safe, before. They would likely do it again. Villains saw them together and made the connection from how they bantered.

Was it worth it?

Shouta’s hands were still in his bag and he pulled them out slowly, grasping the edges for a moment as he thought. Waking up to see Hizashi, still with his ridiculous bed hair, in his boxers and Shouta’s old shirt. The way Hizashi laughed when he was actually amused, a quiet sort of snorting noise and his fingers curled over his mouth. The way Hizashi knew, without question, how Shouta always took his coffee. The quiet nights spent together, skin to skin, after a close call.

And now, looking into adopting a kid together, setting up an appointment to move into their own house for the first time instead of just an apartment.

Their three cats, their hopefully soon-to-be kid, and them.

Worth it?

“Yes,” Shouta smiled. “It is worth it.”

“I’ve already got a slower start,” Shinsou whispered, looking at Shouta now. “A villain’s Quirk, nobody trusts me, no one wants to come near me—a relationship with me would just be a liability.”

“Shinsou,”

“I’m—”

“You are not a villain,” Shouta cut across his kid’s worries as best he could. “Perhaps that is how they treated you in 1C, but in 1A, you are going to be treated differently. Even if I have to expel all of them to make such a thing happen. Shinsou,” he waited until their eyes met. He sighed, looking down first. “Don’t tell them I said this.”

“Tell who?”

“The class.” Shouta moved to lean against the desk next to the one Shinsou was leaning on. “But there is a small test I use to determine if someone is a monster or a villain.” He waited, watching as Shinsou’s hands clenched around his bag. “Midoriya.”

“…Midoriya?”

“Midoriya Izuku is an odd case,” Shouta looked at the board that would soon have his writing on it. “Quirkless, as far as anyone knew before he arrived for the placement test. He passed that in a spectacularly strange way – so many rescue points, no villain points – and has been showing us what he wants to be. If he keeps breaking his bones, Recovery Girl herself is going to start doing something to keep him still.” He looked at Shinsou again, one side of his mouth quirking up. “And he offered you his notebook.”

Shinsou’s eyes widened, then narrowed again. “How is that a test?”

“No one, not a teacher nor a classmate, has ever been able to get Midoriya’s notebooks from him without forcibly taking them. From what I have heard when there is studying going on, his help is the most requested. His notes are perfect,” he hesitated, watching as confusion flickered to life in Shinsou’s eyes, followed by something that seemed to almost be understanding. “And he takes pride in them. In taking them, in keeping them in usable condition.”

“…He trusts me enough to offer me his notebook,” Shinsou was finally understanding it. “He…He thinks I’m not dangerous. That I wouldn’t—” he shuddered. “I went against him at the festival. He knows what my Quirk is. He could have just told me to figure it out on my own, that he didn’t have time.”

“And he only offers his notes and his help to the people he believes in,” Shouta finished for him.

It was something he had noticed about Toshinori’s successor. Midoriya refused to let anyone be judged by who they showed themselves to be, always seeing the brightness in someone. Even if they didn’t see it. Or, in the case of Bakugou Katsuki, refused to let anyone else see it. The idea of using his notebooks as a test was a little laughable, strange and unusual, but Shouta had noticed something. With Midoriya being the way he was, an odd little ray of sunshine, others tended to follow along.

“We should get ready for class to begin,” Shouta reached out and ruffled Shinsou’s hair, chuckling when his kid made a small noise of protest and began combing his fingers through it quickly.

Homeroom went, as it often did, far too slowly.

There were a lot of different personalities in that room, Shouta thought. Between all of them, it was a wonder that he didn’t have grey hair just yet. They all seemed to be aiming to give him a heart attack before his next birthday.

He had almost forgotten the meeting with Nezu, sitting in his office and putting together a lesson plan for the following day. He had made it through almost an entire class period before he’d remembered the meeting. He had been too thankful for the peace and silence in his office.

So here he was.

Rushing down the hallway as fast as he could while still looking somewhat dignified. With a small noise of shock, he darted through the door of Nezu’s office, coming to a stop immediately next to Hizashi. His boyfriend looked angry, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Ito stood in front of Nezu’s desk, her hands clasped behind her back.

She hadn’t stopped talking to Nezu despite Shouta’s somewhat loud entrance, her head held up high. “I just don’t think it is wise, Nezu-san.” She finally looked away from him to see Shouta. “Oh, good, he’s finally here.”

“My apologies,” Shouta bowed, trying to keep a straight face. Ito was a decent teacher, she just felt off somehow. Glancing around the room, he noticed Nemuri.

She was watching him with a hard expression on her face, glancing at Ito every few seconds like she was waiting for something to happen. If she had been called in to the meeting as well, Nezu definitely knew something about whatever had happened. The files had to have been found, or perhaps proof had been found of who had done such a thing. Nemuri stood there, silent, her eyes pinned on Ito.

“With that out of the way – how do you know he didn’t overwhelm your mind, sir?” Ito sneered the words. “I know what he’s like in class—he’s has a mind-control type of Quirk. There is no way he made it into the school on his own merits. Desperate to get in to where the heroes are, I suppose.” She laughed, cruel and loud and shrill. Hizashi had his hands on Shouta’s shoulders.

“That is—” Shouta wanted to scream until his throat gave out. He was suddenly very glad he was not the one with the voice Quirk between his boyfriend and himself. “You absolute—”

Hizashi clamped a hand over his mouth, taking a deep breath. “What my colleague means, Miss Ito, if I may,” Shouta saw his eyes narrow and stopped struggling. Hizashi had grown just as fond of Shinsou as he had, after all. “Is to ask you why you think a kid would be so desperate as to hypnotize an entire school of Pro Heroes only to be stuck in a support class?”

“Stuck—”

“What’s more,” Shouta could feel Hizashi’s anger picking up speed, one of his hands moving to his side to curl into a fist. “I do believe I warned you about insulting your students.”

“Excuse me,” Nezu’s voice came between them, almost like a wall.

Ito stepped back, looking near-murderous. Hizashi stayed where he was, his hand still over Shouta’s mouth. He was thankful. If he had been allowed to say anything to Ito, he probably would have made some mistakes. Some words could never be taken back. “If all of you would look here,” Nezu turned around his tablet, tapping a button on the screen. “This is the security camera feed that is just outside my office.”

With a small squeak, Ito’s face drained of all the color she’d previously had.

Seemingly unfazed, Nezu continued. “Here we see Miss Ito entering my office. With this matching timestamp, I am seen heading to speak with Thirteen about something.” He tapped the screen again, flipping to an image of him outside of Thirteen’s office. The timestamp was exactly the same as when Ito had entered his office. “We see Miss Ito leaving my office again only a few minutes later. I had not asked her there, that day. There was no paperwork for her to sign, pickup, or approve. This means, of course,” he turned his tablet back to himself, pausing the video. “That Miss Ito is responsible for the missing files in regards to Shinsou Hitoshi.”

“…I—” Ito took a deep breath, closing her eyes. “No, sir. He must have altered several minds here.”

“Is that what you are going to insist upon?” Nezu tilted his head, studying her. “Very well, then. Yamada, if you could go open the door and call them in?”

Hizashi frowned, obviously confused, but let go of Shouta to go do so anyway. Shouta glanced at Ito, narrowing his eyes at her. She looked like an animal, backed into a corner and ready to go down fighting. Her nails were sharp, painted a dark purple color today. The flower in her hair was an annoying shade of pink, grown from her own Quirk. Her dress was a mixture between the two colors, her leggings a soft brown color. She looked like an overgrown flower in some ways.

Nemuri, still standing by Nezu’s desk, had her eyes pinned on Ito as well. She had been there to hear what the initial comment that had so stirred up Hizashi’s anger was, though neither of them would tell him.

What he had heard from her was bad enough.

When the door opened, Toshinori walked in slowly, followed by Shinsou. The boy had his bag in his arms, slipping something back inside as he moved. A glimpse of the dark purple cover had Shouta almost smiling – Shinsou had been studying while out in the hallway. Toshinori looked at Shouta, tilting his chin towards Shinsou, then nodding. “Shinsou Hitoshi,” Nezu hopped up on his desk, moving across it to sit on the edge. “You are here to prove something for me. Just a quick thing, really.”

“Sir?” Shinsou glanced between Shouta and Hizashi, even looking up at Toshinori.

“Try to use your quirk on me.” Nezu explained, putting his paws on his knees. “Go ahead,” he prodded when Shinsou’s eyes widened. “Try your very best.”

“…What should I try to make you do, sir?”

Nezu smiled. “Anything you want, I suppose.”

“I—” Shinsou frowned, then set his bag down. The line between his eyebrows deepened, the edges of his mouth setting harder. “You said anything?”

“I said anything,” Nezu nodded. “Absolutely anything.”

With a deep breath, Shinsou nodded. After a minute of nothing, he let out a woosh of air, stumbling sideways. Shouta caught him, steadying him on his feet. Looking between Nezu and Shinsou, he frowned as well. “Sir?” he looked back to Shinsou, noticing his son swaying slightly.

“I am incapable of being altered mentally,” Nezu provided an explanation. “Shinsou Hitoshi is, quite literally, unable to alter my mind about anything. I suppose the rules work differently for me. Now,” he turned back to Ito. “You were saying?” he stood up, moving back into his chair. “Because it seems to me, Miss Ito, that you stole a student’s files. Possibly altering them, possibly destroying them entirely. Seeing as how those files contain his medical write-ups, I may have to inform someone that you were complicit in his home life being as nasty as it was.” Nezu’s paws were not quite as intimidating as a pair of hands, but when he steepled them on his desk there was a flash of something in his eyes.

Ito took several steps back, raising her hands like she was going to defend herself.

Before her Quirk had time to do anything other than sprout a few small plant tendrils, Shouta had activated his own. Her Quirk died-down quickly, leaving her standing there in a defensive position without any shielding. “Fine!” she snarled the word out. “Perhaps I did change the monster’s files! A villain will always be a villain, no matter what!” she clenched her hands into fists. “Shinsou Hitoshi is a monster and a villain and he deserves what he got—”

Nemuri had lunged forward, shoving her hand over Ito’s face and activating her Quirk. Ito slumped to the ground, unconscious in seconds.

Shinsou, however, had roused from the semi-exhausted state the useless attempts to use his Quirk had put him in. His hands were curled in Shouta’s shirt, his face tucked into his shoulder. With a soft ‘shhh’, Shouta put a hand on the back of his head, bringing him closer. He sighed, glancing at where Ito lay on the ground. “I am going to take him home,” he told Nezu. “Hizashi?”

“I’ll come with you,” Hizashi nodded. His eyes were wide, his hands curled into fists. He looked ready to harm Ito. It was probably for the best that neither of them stayed. “Toshinori, you know English.”

“…I do, yes,” Toshinori looked almost afraid as he spoke, narrowing his eyes. “Why do you—Oh.”

“Please?”

“I can handle your students for a lesson,” Toshinori nodded. “Is your syllabus in your office?”

“Yes,” Hizashi nodded. He had come closer, putting his hand on Shinsou’s shoulder. With small motions meant to soothe, his thumb was moving slowly. “There is the daily lesson, it’ll be highlighted. There is a brief list of previous lessons as well, it’ll be easy to catch up to where they are and figure out how to teach them.” He half-bowed when Toshinori nodded again. “Thank you.”

Crouching down, Hizashi picked up Shinsou’s bag.

Shouta ruffled Shinsou’s hair. “C’mon kid,” he muttered. “We’re going home.” He smiled as Shinsou nodded and followed along with him. There were wet spots on his shoulder when he looked down, Shinsou’s eyes red and teary. “You’re doing a lot better than you were,” he praised him, nodding when Shinsou looked up at him. “But you do know she’s wrong?”

“I’m not a monster,” Shinsou sounded like he was having trouble with the words. He shuddered, still crying as he walked. Hizashi was walking on his other side, carrying his bag. He hadn’t given it back yet and Shinsou made no move to take it. “I’m not a v-villain,” he sobbed, rubbing roughly at his eyes. He cleared his throat, refusing to meet their eyes.

“And?” Hizashi prompted.

“I don’t deserve what was done to me,” Shinsou’s mouth turned gently upward, a small smile starting to show. It got bigger when Hizashi reached down to ruffle his hair. Both of them had done it a couple of times by now – the cloud of purple fluff was almost out of control.

“There we go,” Shouta nodded, sticking a hand into his pocket. The other hand was on Shinsou’s shoulder, keeping him close.

Chapter Text

His son’s bag in his hand, Hizashi followed along as Shinsou clung to Shouta’s side.

Ito was probably going to be brought up on some sort of charges – considering the disappearance of Shinsou’s medical files, she could be very easily attached to the case against his foster. Hizashi took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as he walked with his family. He had wanted to start screaming at Ito, damage to the building a minor consequence in his mind. He was thankful that Shouta had begun to get angry in such a visible way. It had reminded Hizashi to calm down and take a step back. He could still be angry, but he had to make certain that Shouta did not get himself in trouble.

They made it out of the school, walking slowly down the road. Shinsou was mostly quiet, still occasionally letting out a soft sobbing noise.

Falling in step with his family, Hizashi put his hand on Shinsou’s back. He rubbed in small circles, shifting Shinsou’s bag so it was on his shoulder. Whatever he could do to help, he would. After a moment, all of them just staying together, Shinsou turned and wrapped an arm around him. Hizashi smiled, his hand moving to his son’s hair. Shouta met his eyes, the scar on his cheek pulling on the edge of his own smile. “There is something else we want to talk to you about,” Hizashi finally spoke.

“It can wait until we get home, but we did want to ask,” Shouta chimed in, reaching out to put his hand on Shinsou’s shoulder.

Shinsou nodded, wiping at his eyes. “I keep crying,” he frowned, his entire body shaking as he pulled out of the partial hug. “It’s not…It’s not good.” He refused to look at either of them, an embarrassed red color filling his cheeks. “I shouldn’t be crying this much, it’s not that big of a problem.”

“Crying is good, sometimes,” Hizashi shrugged. “Sometimes you need to cry.”

They stayed quiet, just being close to each other, until they got to the train station. Their apartment was four stops away from the station for the school, had been chosen by them for that specific purpose. The new house they were looking at was only a single station away. The commute time would be even faster and…

And maybe Shinsou could make friends and bring them home. Hizashi would encourage that, if he could. Study groups and friends to hang out with. Shouta’s students were good kids – surely they would attach themselves and drag Shinsou into a group? Midoriya had offered to study with Shinsou, Hizashi knew, and Iida was a kid they had both babysat for. Tensei was one of their friends, after all, they knew his family well.

That girl as well, Asui. Shouta had said she had made a silent promise in class.

Alliances were built in the classroom.

Friends were made in the classroom as well.

The train ride was quiet, not many people riding during a time when most were at school or work. It was unusual for them to be on the train so early in the day. Even with Shinsou in their lives, they still only made it onto the train in the late afternoon. Shinsou sat in between them, his hands in his lap. Hizashi was still holding his bag – if he couldn’t take away the mental burdens, he would make certain his son didn’t need to bother with some physical ones. The thing that he and Shouta had noticed about Shinsou was that he internalized things. After years of living in the foster system, having been mistreated and shuffled around, he probably had a long history of names he had been called. Words that had been used against him, sharpened into daggers that had been shoved into his mind. It would take him some time to get past all of that, to clear it all out.

Hizashi couldn’t help with that directly, so he would do what he could.

Comfort items, good food, everything he could give to make his kid happy. To make his kid know that he was cared for. That he was loved.

A lump formed in his throat as they made their way up to their apartment. As the door closed behind them and they all took off their shoes, Hizashi cleared his throat as best he could. “What were your plans?” he managed to ask without crying. “For your future, I mean. I know it was mentioned that you could make the choice to go back into the system, but we…We wanted to know what your thoughts were.”

He moved further into the apartment, settling down at the kotatsu and turning it on. Shouta would inevitably end up curled against it, he knew.

Shinsou followed him, Shouta just a few steps behind. “I…” he sat down, his hands clasped together in his lap. His fingers were clenched around each other, his knuckles white. “I don’t know. I’m probably too old to – people don’t want to adopt teenagers. We’re not the cute kids who enter into the system and leave again a week later. I’m not old enough yet to legally have a voice when it comes to fostering, so if I go back into the system it’ll…” he shook his head. “It will just be more of the same.”

Hizashi could see the wall Shinsou was building around himself. He was preparing for heartbreak.

“What if we adopted you?” Shouta’s voice was a quiet rumble. He’d known his boyfriend for too long to not know Shouta was close to tears.

At first, Shinsou didn’t react.

He kept his head down, not looking at either of them. His eyes were trained, almost blankly, at a spot on the floor. If Hizashi knew anything, it was that their kid was replaying the words in his mind, again and again. He was probably having trouble making sense of them. “Shinsou?” he spoke up again, putting his hand on the tabletop. “Did you hear him?”   

“You…Actually want to adopt me?” Shinsou’s eyes were wide. His breath was catching, barely any air entering him as he looked up at the two of them.

“Of course we do,” Hizashi laughed, leaning forward to take one of Shinsou’s hands in both of his own. “Of course we do!” he smiled, looking at Shouta. “I’d be glad to call you my son. Shouta would be too.” Shouta nodded and Hizashi wanted to sing. His boyfriend was smiling, the actual smile he only used when he was truly happy. He took Shinsou’s other hand, nodding.

“I have been calling you my son in my head,” Shouta admitted. “Practically since I started training you.”

“So would you be okay with that?” Hizashi was practically bouncing in his seat. “If it’s okay with you, we’re going to apply to be your parents. But only if you want us to be.” He looked around the apartment. “Seems like our place could use a kid to fill out the empty parts. Do you know someone who’d like to be that kid?”

“Y—” Shinsou’s eyes filled with tears, his hands shaking. Hizashi watched him as he resorted to nodding, too overwhelmed to actually talk. “Yeah.” He finally managed. “I want—I want to stay here.”

Hizashi wasted no time in coming around the kotatsu, pulling Shinsou into a tight hug. “Then you’re staying,” he said, gesturing for Shouta to join in as well. His boyfriend did so slowly, chuckling as Hizashi swept him up too. Shinsou was cradled between them, both of them doing their best to keep him comfortable. He had an arm around each of them after a second. “We’re not getting rid of you, not ever.”

“Ours now,” Shouta deadpanned. “Besides, Pepper likes you. It’s too late for you to leave now.”

Shinsou was laughing now, still holding both of them tightly.

“There will be paperwork to fill out,” Hizashi rubbed the bottom of his chin on Shinsou’s head. He did the same to Shouta, knowing his boyfriend would pretend to be annoyed by the gesture. He wasn’t, really. Shouta had told him once, probably slightly drunker than he’d meant to be, that he loved it when Hizashi showed physical affection. “But we can do that. We do scarier things every day. We have a house to negotiate, still.”

“…Is that one of the requirements for adoption?” Shinsou looked up at him, his mouth hanging open as if he had realized something.

“Having space for our new kid is a requirement, yes.” Hizashi grinned.

With his eyes tearing up again, Shinsou’s lips pinched together. He took a deep breath, then another. “I…How long have you been thinking about…I mean…” he looked at Shouta, who shrugged.

“Since we pulled you out of that house,” he admitted. “A little earlier, for me.”

Hizashi could almost tell what Shinsou was thinking at the moment. It was probably similar to what Oboro had thought in the same sort of situation. A mixture of ‘I don’t deserve this’ and low self-esteem after years of mistreatment. “The only reason I didn’t bring it up earlier,” he smoothed Shinsou’s hair back from his face. “Is because I wasn’t sure what you would respond with. We wanted you to be happy, even if that meant that you would choose to go back into the system. We wanted it to be your choice, entirely. Didn’t matter what we thought or wanted, we just wanted what was best for you.”

“I want to stay with you,” Shinsou leaned into his hand. Hizashi could feel his entire body shaking. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Then you won’t,” Shouta moved closer to Hizashi, both of them pulling Shinsou into their arms and hugging him at the same time. He was still shaking, the tremors getting worse. How long had it been, before they had taken him in, since someone had just hugged him? Had touched him without violence in their minds and actions?

How touch-starved was their kid?

Each of them had an arm around Shinsou now, his face smooshed into both of their shoulders. Shinsou’s arms were wrapped around them. “So you’re going to be our son,” Hizashi felt a wave of warmth go through him at the idea. “Which means you’re going to be dealing with the whole host of people we call our family. Terrifying concept, I know. It includes Nemuri.”

“…Nemuri?”

“Midnight,” Shouta added. “We’ve known her since we were in school.”

Shinsou snorted, rubbing his cheeks against their shoulders. “She’s a little scary,” he muttered. “But I think it’s a good kind of scary?” he pulled back from both of them, turning when he heard a soft meow. He moved to sit down, watching as Pepper crawled into his lap, kneading gently at the fabric of his shirt. Tuna followed, settling all of her weight on Shinsou’s chest. Hizashi forced himself to keep a straight face, watching as Tuna curled herself up on Shinsou, her purr sounding like a machine having trouble starting. She had him pinned to the floor. Salmon wandered over soon enough, joining his sister by settling his weight on Shinsou’s shoulder. “Uh,” Shinsou had to use his left arm to pet them, his right pinned down.

“I think that’s three more votes to keep you,” Hizashi grinned.

Tuna and Salmon were oddly in tune with Shouta’s emotions, always seeming to know when he needed to hold them. It wasn’t surprising that the two bobtails had begun to recognize when Shinsou needed the same thing.

Pepper was a different matter, however, and it made Hizashi almost want to cry.

They had adopted Pepper when she had been pulled out of an illegitimate breeder’s operation. While it was not the same, her story was similar to Shinsou’s. So the fact that she had chosen to cuddle up to him, to constantly choose to come find him, made Hizashi’s eyes itch from the tears that wanted to fall.

It just felt like they were all coming home, finally.

Chapter Text

“Okay, so,” Hizashi hummed, looking through the bag at his side. “Some things.”

It had been a month with Shinsou in their new house. They were back in their favorite restaurant, the one they had gone to with Shinsou the first time they had taken him out for food. “I have something for each of you,” Hizashi continued, still digging through things in the bag. “For Hitoshi, I have this,” he pulled out a large envelope, setting it on the table in front of him. Shouta watched as Hitoshi’s eyes grew wide. Without even the slightest hint or opening it, Shouta knew what was in that envelope. “And for Shouta,” Hizashi paused, his hand in the bag. “There was one requirement we didn’t fill when we applied to adopt Hitoshi,” he explained.

For a moment, Hitoshi looked stricken. Terrified, really, ready to cry again.

“But they told me they could make an exception as long as we corrected it quickly,” Hizashi grinned. “Don’t worry, little listener. We’re not giving up that easily. However,” he turned to Shouta, his face dropping into something uncharacteristically stern. “One of us should correct it. Today, in fact.”

Shouta frowned, trying to think of what they might have missed.

Had they forgotten a form? Tsukauchi had helped them with all of it, coaching them through the various filings and court dates and discussions with the adoption agency that had control of Hitoshi’s fostering. There should not have been anything they missed—

“There is a marriage requirement in Japan, still,” Hizashi stood up and moved to kneel down next to Shouta. “And as long as we can correct that, we can adopt Shinsou Hitoshi.”

It was Shouta’s turn to have trouble breathing.

There had been talks between them about getting married. Like with the discussions about adopting, they had come up with reasons not to – their jobs were horrifically busy, their lives were in danger. Most people already knew about Eraserhead and Present Mic being friends, so getting into a hospital to see each other was no issue. Hizashi opened his hands to reveal a box, however, and Shouta forgot every single reason they had ever talked about.

“So if you’ll have a radio DJ with no idea what an indoor volume is,” Hizashi bit his bottom lip. “Who hasn’t left you alone since he met you – Aizawa Shouta, will you be my husband?”

Shouta clapped a hand over his own mouth, willing down the urge to laugh out loud. It was that or cry. He hadn’t expected that question to hit him so hard, for all of his logical possible reactions to fly out the window so quickly he was left feeling like he had been run over by a truck. “I—” he swallowed an odd bit of sound, clenching his teeth together. He was feeling overwhelmed, too warm, and like he could float. “Yes,” he nodded, feeling his hair brush across the back of his neck with the motion. “Yes, Yamada Hizashi, I absolutely will be your husband.”

With his own laughter, Hizashi opened the box, revealing a ring. It was a fairly plain silver band, a line of black stone dotted with white running through the middle, all the way around. “The stone is snowflake obsidian,” Hizashi explained when he saw Shouta looking at it. “Supposedly means something about persisting through hard times. It seemed fitting, given everything all of us have gone through.” He turned to look at Hitoshi, still smiling. “You should really look in your envelope.”

Hitoshi nodded, his hands shaking as he did. There were only a few sheets of paper inside but Hitoshi looked at them like they held the secret to life itself.

“What is it?” Shouta was almost certain he already knew.

“I,” Hitoshi tried to take a deep breath, his eyes bright as he looked at both of them. “It’s adoption papers,” he was whispering. “Yamada Hizashi has already signed. And- And Aizawa Shouta needs to sign them too.” He held them out, hands still shaking. “Your name is on the blank line.”

“Please tell me you have a pen,” Shouta turned to look at Hizashi. “Right now.”

Wordlessly, Hizashi pulled one out of his pocket and handed it to him.

With quick movements, Shouta set the papers on the table and signed them as fast as physically possible. “There,” he said, nodding. A quick flip through ensured he hadn’t missed anything. “As soon as this gets returned to the agency—?”

“He’s ours,” Hizashi’s smile was bright. “Officially, anyway.”

“Good,” Shouta nodded, turned back to see Hitoshi covering his face with both hands. “Here,” he held out his arm, letting out a small noise of surprise when Hitoshi leaned against him at the same time as Hizashi slid the ring onto his finger. He had more family than he really knew what to do with at the moment, he thought.

His kid was going to be his son, officially.

A thought occurred to him. “Oh, Nemuri is going to go insane with planning the wedding,” he muttered. He rubbed his hand up and down Hitoshi’s back soothingly, leaning against Hizashi’s side in turn. “Hopefully we can steer her away from some of her more outrageous ideas.” He dropped his head to Hizashi’s shoulder, sighing contentedly when his boyfrie—Fiancé’s fingers began scratching gently at his scalp. They both knew Nemuri would not rest until she had planned at least half of the wedding.

The three of them must have made something of a sight to behold, all curled together like that.

Shouta turned his head to kiss Hizashi’s cheek, smiling when Hizashi giggled. Hitoshi must have been watching because he laughed too, his arm reaching past Shouta to grab Hizashi’s sleeve. Hizashi adjusted his hand so that he could take their son’s, the same hold he had when they had first brought him home. Reassuring and gentle, calm and careful. “I love you both,” Hizashi whispered. “My fiancé and my son—” he jolted a little, laughing again. “I’m going to have to have photos of the both of you for my desk,” he nodded. “For the radio station and for U.A.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Shouta shook his head.

It was an attractive idea, however. They had been wearing symbols of each other for years. Shouta had a collection of small necklaces, all of them various styles of microphones. There was a black leather choker Hizashi wore when out on patrol and missions, tucked away under his speaker. It had once belonged to Shouta, much the same way their sleep shirts had once belonged to each other.

But having photos of his family where everyone could see them? Being able to keep a part of his family with him while at work, in the short bursts of time he was away from them?

Like he said.

An attractive idea.

He sighed, contented, as he leaned back upright. Their waitress had brought their food to the table, apologizing quietly for interrupting them. Hizashi apologized as well, moving back to his seat across from Shouta and Hitoshi.

The light kept catching on his engagement ring as the meal progressed, Shouta unable to keep his eyes off of it. His class was going to know. His students were going to notice.

He smiled, chewing slowly at the bite of food in his mouth. That would not be the end of the world. Midoriya would probably be the first to see it, he knew, but Kaminari would likely be the first to mention it. Iida would already know, given his brother and Shouta still kept in contact every few days. They were still good friends. The students knowing would not be the end of the world. The other teachers, the staff of U.A, they would know too. He wouldn’t mind it at all. Miss Joke was all too persistent in her chase of him – if anything, going a little more public with their relationship would deter her. Hopefully.

Shouta glanced at Hitoshi, watching as his son kept looking down at the envelope of papers, having tucked them back in and set it in the middle of the table. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright. It had to be a huge relief, knowing he would never have to go back to the situation they had pulled him out of.

Shinsou Hitoshi would never be kept in a small room with very little comfort again.

He would have everything he needed, a lot of things he wanted, and as much love as he could stomach from his adopted parents.

Shouta felt his own cheeks flush and he glanced at Hizashi, who was watching him with a lovestruck expression on his face. They were going to be parents. Not just in the way they had gotten used to – cats and students as a proxy. Shouta loved his students, would rather die than let any harm come to them and he almost had a couple of times. This was something closer, a part of his heart that he had tried to ignore for years.

He was going to be married. He had a son.

Clearing his throat, Shouta looked back down at his plate, feeling the goofy smile on his face. In the time he had lived with them, Hitoshi had begun to open up more. At school, he had begun to make friends.

Midoriya was one of his best friends, often sitting in the main room of their house and studying with Hitoshi. Shouta had heard them discussing, more than once, the people around them. Despite everything they had gone through, all the things that had happened, they were still teenagers. Midoriya’s crush on Todoroki was a subject that came up often. Shouta had never quite managed to hear who Hitoshi might have a crush on, but he suspected he would find out in time.

Shouta and Hizashi had gotten used to hearing Hitoshi laughing.

It was a good sound to hear.

He had finally started to let go of the manufactured persona he had worn all the time. He wasn’t hiding things from them, would volunteer information when it was necessary.

Shinsou Hitoshi had come home.

And they would make sure he always could.