Chapter Text
Death doesn’t get any easier for a hero to experience. As a hero, as somebody who’s supposed to stop people from getting hurt, it was something that many didn’t handle well. There wasn’t much a high-school course or internship at an agency could do to train a future hero on how to handle a loss like this. Could they give a “serious warning?” They could try. Stress what happens after a failed exercise? That hardly did anything. Nothing changed that seeing the dead body they failed to save didn’t feel like any fight against a villain ended in an accomplishment. It was a failure.
Apparently the world hated Shota Aizawa enough to have him have to be too late to not only save a woman’s life, but have that woman’s kid be inches from her lifeless, bloody body.
He’d been patrolling at night around a usually crime infested series of apartment buildings in a rougher district when he’d heard crashes and then a scream. He’d quickly concluded it was a villain attack and was there on the scene in no time. He noticed immediately three bodies; a male with long dark hair, dressed in all worn black clothing first, and then what looked like two translucent bubbles surrounding the heads of what he could make out as a young child and an adult woman.
The small, adult woman wasn’t moving from her place on the ground, and he could see the child struggling from his place next to her. The kid was desperately hitting against the bubble with his hands shaped into tight fists, and gasping for air.
That’s when Shota made the first move against the attacker.
The villain had been easy enough to fight after his quirk was erased, relying on it to win a fight like so many other rookie villains did. He’d tried scaring Shota by screaming out what his quirk did—solidifying air around a person where he could then control the oxygen that existed within the sphere. With his quirk, he claimed he could kill anybody within minutes. He’d similarly tried holding out a knife as if that would do anything else to intimidate Shota into backing off. The movements were wild and unpracticed, showing him the villain would only win a fight as long as his quirk existed. The poor fighting skills didn’t change that he had a quirk that could kill, one that he could use to fight on possibly equal ground with some (lower-level) heroes. Shota didn’t care about any of that, not now.
(He regularly didn’t care about villain monologues and misplaced confidence, that was annoying. Right now, he really had a job to do.)
It only took his capture weapon and a few kicks before the villain was down and unconscious, ready to be taken in by the police that Shota had notified after beating the villain down. With one look out of the corner of his eye he could see the woman wasn’t moving. Her body was completely still and her clothes were stained with her own blood. When he glanced over at her he’d known that no matter what he’d been able to do to the villain, this was a failed fight. The villain had taken all the air out of her lungs like he’d said he could. As if his quirk hadn’t been enough, Shota could see how the blood seeped out of the body where she’d been slashed brutally, too. An unnecessary show of power where the villain only used the knife against her because he could, all to show he wanted people to know what sort of power he could hold over them. She was dead with no chance of being revived, not with the clear blood loss and absolute stillness, and nothing entering or leaving her lungs.
It was the kid at that point that had been the problem. Shota wouldn’t have two bodies staining his hands red tonight, not when nobody should ever have been in this situation in the first place.
After Shota had saved the kid and the bubbles were gone, he had backed away as fast as he could. He’d used his arms and legs to push himself across the rough concrete ground until he hit the hard brick wall of the apartment complex. Once his back had hit the wall he looked up at Shota with wide eyes that expressed how terrified he was. He’d been so scared, Shota didn’t think the kid even realized how hurt he was. He probably didn’t know how much pain he was in caused by the bleeding cut that had been slashed on his upper-arm with blood that was staining his shirt. With that one look at his expression, Shota had known this wouldn’t be easy.
The kid had been understandably unwilling to initially get too close to Shota, and cried for his mom who he may not have noticed wasn’t moving at all.
It hadn’t taken too long before the kid was moving toward the hero who wanted to help him. The kid trusted heroes, something Shota had been thankful for at the time. No matter how scared he’d been, he’d listened to Shota, and he hadn’t expected that to happen to a kid in his situation. Him being as cooperative as he was hadn’t made too much sense, but Shota would take what he could get.
Somehow the kid had calmed down enough he’d allowed himself to be taken to the hospital without a fight. He’d still been crying, but it was lacking the hysteria he’d had when he was first gripping Shota's shirt for dear life after he’d let Shota get close to him. He doesn’t remember what he’d said that got the kid to come near him, what mattered was that in the end the kid hadn't tried to run away or anything else equally as bad. What he’d said didn’t matter as much as long as it had worked.
Shota usually didn’t try to comfort people. All of that he just didn’t do, not wanting to and really not being good at it. He left all of that to other pro-heroes who didn’t hide away from all the attention, preferring the cover of nightly patrols. He would usually leave the moment he was allowed to. He’d go back to patrolling or get to his yellow sleeping bag and try to remain asleep, but there’s nothing else that he felt he should do when he saw a child who just lost his mother in the way she did. Shota made it his temporary goal to keep the kid’s attention away from the body until the police arrived.
He hadn’t done much, but there was something about the way he gripped tight to Shota that had him aware the kid needed a hero. He did in the moment, and he probably still did, the trauma from losing his mother like this never going to leave him.
That’s what led Shota to regularly visiting the hospital the following days.
At that point he’d learned from the police that the woman, Inko Midoriya, was in fact dead on the scene with no chance of being saved after the attack (which he’d been well aware of), and her son, Izuku Midoriya, was injured, but thankfully not severely. Nothing but bruises and the cuts from the villain's knife scarring his arm. He’d still need time in the hospital, but there wasn’t anything that showed he’d have lasting damage to any muscles or ligaments.
(He was told there’d be a scar that he’d have for the rest of his life. Shota had to tell himself at least it was just a scar, even if it’d be a constant reminder of what happened.)
Shota reminded himself yet again as he sat in the hospital waiting room that he didn’t do this. He stopped the villain and he left the situation to the police and the doctors. This kid was what made this all different, Shota needing to know the kid who’d clung so desperately to the hero who couldn’t save his mother was as okay as a child who lost a parent could be. The kid, Izuku, had been different, too. Yeah, kids liked heroes, but there was a trust in Shota he expressed that just didn’t happen, not to him.
He’d talked to the doctors and police regularly, answering the necessary questions, and probably surprising them all as he stayed in the vicinity despite his presence becoming less and less needed. Not all heroes were known for sticking around so long for the people they’d saved, and this did nothing but keep the doctors regularly giving him strange looks when he’d remained there for the kid who’d arrived from a villain attack.
He usually didn’t mind being alone, but there, he didn’t like being in the hospital and not keeping human contact. He realized he could use somebody else to be a grounding presence. He didn’t like the white floors, the white walls, people with varying problems all needing something from doctors, none of it. Days of it only brought him down worse and worse. Everybody could tell you Shota didn’t have a sunshine personality like Hizashi and Nemuri (the only two people who really bothered to talk to him), but even he didn’t like the sort of aura that came from being in a hospital.
He didn’t like sitting there alone, but he probably shouldn’t have texted Hizashi in short about what was happening, not when he could occasionally give Shota more stress than less. The thing was, even as loud as he could be, he could also be what Shota needed at the moment to keep his anxiety from shooting to extremely high levels. He didn’t need to have that sort of energy around a kid who’d just experienced something more traumatic than most any other child his age. Even as loud and stressful as he could get, Hizashi could be a necessity at this point.
(It didn’t help that Hizashi was probably already upset that Shota hadn’t answered the multitude of texts he’s been sent. Shota felt that wasn’t worth worrying about now.)
At the time he didn’t think about what he typed over text too much, just sent a short one summing up where he was without too much on the “why.” All he’d admitted was something happened when he was patrolling, and with the unsaid “meet me here” Hizashi actually showed up.
“You didn’t need to come,” Shota grumbled.
Hizashi gave him a small smile, holding out a cup of coffee. He caught on to what Shota meant, but didn’t say aloud. “Yeah, I did.”
Shota took the coffee gratefully, desperately needing the caffeine boost after a full night (arguably days) stressing over the state of Izuku Midoriya. The police didn’t want Shota visiting yet and that only skyrocketed his anxiety. The coffee was a blessing, so maybe there were some good things that could happen after he sent the text to Hizashi.
“Before you ask anything, I’m still here because there’s a kid involved,” Shota said, wanting to stop the barrage of questions before they could begin. A worried Hizashi could mean a potential headache, worse than the one he was already close to from the lack of sleep. “It was serious, and he’s here and alone.”
There was only a moment of silence before Hizashi simply nodded in understanding. “I get it.”
Shota believed that. He’s not the only one who’s seen the darker side of hero work, and it helped Hizashi knew him well enough that he didn’t expect long answers to various questions.
“Nemuri wanted to come when she heard, too,” he added matter-of-factly as he sat down next to Shota in the waiting room. “But she got held up with a surprise interview. You know how people can get with the up-and-coming ‘R-rated hero.’ It was something she really couldn’t get out of.”
He continued talking after that, informing Shota all about Nemuri’s hesitant acceptance of the interview when she wanted to meet them, to then talk about anything and everything he felt like. Hizashi argued the sentiment was nice as they both knew Nemuri liked the spotlight, and he pushed that that’s what mattered more than anything. Shota argued he never mentioned it to her in the first place and she hadn’t needed to be here at all.
(He probably wouldn’t have minded her there either, but neither her nor Hizashi needed to know that.)
Shota could honestly say he didn’t like people, but Hizashi’s (albeit noisy) presence had a somewhat comforting effect on him as they sat in the hospital waiting room. As arguably too lively as Hizashi could get, at least he knew when and what to talk about to give Shota a distraction (he also got a headache, but he could ignore that for now). That’s probably what made him text Hizashi in the first place, even if he wouldn’t admit it. He didn’t want Hizashi thinking he could talk his ear off whenever he wanted.
Hizashi had suddenly stopped talking, causing Shota to look up and notice a police woman staring at them. Shota recognized her as the one who’d first introduced herself when he arrived, but he couldn’t remember her name.
(Anybody should give him a pass on remembering names with the amount of sleep deprivation he has. The short and few moments out of the hospital he didn’t sleep very well. Even a high dosage of caffeine couldn’t help, not with the little knowledge on the state of the kid he was getting.)
“Eraserhead, Sir?” the woman questioned, blinking in surprise. “You’re still here?”
Shota nodded. “Just waiting to see if you need more information on the Midoriya case.”
It wasn’t a lie, not really. He did want to help in what ways he could. That didn’t stop Hizashi from giving a loud, exasperated sigh from next to him.
The woman hesitated, looking down and away from him. That wasn’t promising. “We don’t have good news about the Midoriya’s.”
“The last doctor I talked to said he was okay,” Shota interjected, not liking the sudden shift the police woman had in her demeanor.
“The child is physically okay,” she amended quickly, making sure to ensure Shota knew the Midoriya kid wasn’t in any imminent danger. “It’s just with his mom dead, we found a way to contact his dad to let him know and, well…”
Shota raised an eyebrow. It was good to know Izuku wasn’t hurt, but the tone of the police officer didn’t promise anything Shota wanted to hear. “Well?”
She clearly didn’t want to talk, meaning the answer was something she didn’t want to repeat. Shota made sure the look on his face left no room for an argument. He wasn’t going to let this go easily, not when it now looked like the kid’s well-being was being threatened.
(He reminded himself then after multiple times of already doing so that he was getting too attached, and really, really shouldn’t. The problem was it was slowly becoming a situation where he wouldn’t easily be willing to let go.)
“He was clearly upset the mother died, but he outright said he doesn’t want the child,” she finally admitted defeatedly, visibly deflating just from relaying the information. “He said he ‘left in the first place for a reason.’ He works outside of Japan now and he said having a child like Izuku was stressful because he doesn’t have a quirk. He didn’t like the judgement from his coworkers and other parents, and said he liked his new start. Some of the other things he said—I wouldn’t call them humane.”
Shota tensed. This was becoming more and more of an issue for him, and when he looked to the side he could tell from Hizashi’s expression he was equally as bothered.
He’d known about quirk discrimination against the quirkless—the minority of the population at 20%—even if society didn’t really want to talk about it too much. He knew it existed, it was another thing entirely to hear first hand a parent wasn’t willing to take care of their kid because they’re quirkless. That spoke of a discrimination that went beyond the seriousness of what he’d thought. There wasn’t any good reason to reject a kid, but one of the worst excuses he’d ever heard was because of the kid’s genetics.
“‘Because he doesn’t have a quirk?’” he repeated coldly. “That was his reason?”
She nodded, looking at him nervously. “With a reply like that I’ll argue we can’t give Izuku to his dad even if he changes his mind. That was a promise of abuse and negligence. We can already tell Izuku is a kind child, good too, and I can reassure you the police won’t give him to somebody who admits they don’t want to take care of him.”
At least there was one other person besides him who seemed to care about Izuku. Shota was somewhat thankful for this after having to hear what his own father had to say about him.
“It doesn’t help that we couldn’t find anybody else,” she continued solemnly. “We’ve been heavily investigating since the incident, and the police have found nobody who worked with Inko Midoriya who claimed to be close to her. They didn’t offer any information on her or Izuku at all. They were especially not close enough to be willing to offer any information about anybody we could contact to help with Izuku. The Midoriya’s liked to be on their own, apparently.”
There was doubt in her voice, like she knew something she didn’t want to disclose. She wasn’t going to say anything, not when the police had their own information they kept from even heroes, but Shota could guess some of it at this point. A single mother with an ostracized kid didn’t spell out an easy life.
“The kid won’t even talk about himself,” she added. “We understand that he’s just a kid and is still under a lot of stress, and it’s not like he’s been uncooperative or anything. He just doesn’t offer much about his life or his mom. That’s one of the more worrying things we’ve had to experience.”
“Would it help if I visit him?” Shota questioned, not fully realizing what he was asking until he’d actually spoken the words. He decided to ignore everything telling him it wasn’t a good idea to attach a name with a face he could keep on his mind. The added stress will be a nightmare.
She tilted her head to the side and gave him a taken aback look at his sudden request. That showed that she found the question unexpected. “Sure, I guess. The doctors will probably want him one more day, though. His stress might be down some and it’ll be better. Being here as long as you have I think at this point it should be allowed—you deserve that much. I’ll let them know you’re going to stop by and you can come back anytime tomorrow.”
Shota only nodded, accepting the answer. That was fine, giving the kid another day.
“I should really leave now,” the woman said, turning toward where the exit was. She gave him one last slight smile. “Thank you again for saving him.”
“There was a lot you didn’t tell me,” Hizashi accused once she left, voice tinted with the surprise he felt after listening to the conversation. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but this is worse than you let me think, isn’t it?”
“Do you want to be here when I visit him?” Shota asked, avoiding the question. Hizashi was right, he didn’t want to talk about it. “If I’m allowed to see him tomorrow, that’s what I want to do.”
Hizashi smiled at him. “I’d love to meet the little listener!”
They’d left not too long after that with Hizashi promising yet again he’d be with Shota when he met Izuku. Shota believed him when he said it’s what he wanted, and not just something he said to make sure Shota had somebody with him.
After that was another night without much sleep. Annoying, but expected at this point.
Thankfully, Hizashi didn’t mind morning’s too bad, and easily accepted the time Shota asked. Shota could easily tell Hizashi was judging him based on his appearance (this he didn’t understand that much, as if he’s ever really cared about how he looks anyways and Hizashi should understand his lifestyle by now), he just ignored the look he got.
“I’m here to see Izuku Midoriya,” Shota said, Hizashi standing next to him with a bright smile that wasn’t appropriate for this early in the morning.
The man looked at him and Hizashi seriously, pursing his lips in disapproval. “The police should be leaving that boy alone. He’s been through enough. I don’t care what you think you want, you’re running him ragged and he needs to heal.”
Before Shota could say anything else, to tell him that he wasn’t an officer and he’d been approved to be there, a nurse had rushed over with a loud greeting to the man at the desk upon seeing Shota. He saw her basic features, tall with blonde hair, but he mostly noticed how her dark eyes were practically sparkling with excitement. He didn’t understand the sudden exclamation and blinding, bright smile from the woman, he only hoped it meant something positive about his potential visit with Izuku. The amount of obstacles to meet the kid he’s had to deal with at this point was bothersome. “Mr. Suzuki!”
She got close to the man, Mr. Suzuki, at the desk, glancing over at him before leaning in to speak quietly with him. “He’s the hero little Izuku has been asking about, you know, the one who saved him. He looks just like what little Izuku told me! Please, you know how bad he’s wanted to talk to him.”
The woman was practically begging. Shota wasn’t used to people wanting to have a conversation with him in general outside of Hizashi and Nemuri, but he supposed Izuku wanting to see him made some sense. He’d been the hero on the scene where everything to him and his mom had happened, which may or may not mean he had things to say or some questions he wanted answered. The conversation might not be long or helpful, but he should at least try and give what he could to help Izuku’s state of mind. The biggest problem is he wasn’t charismatic like one of the flashier pro-heroes, so he knew he’d have to really try to make sure he didn’t say something would make Hizashi later berate him.
(He found that he was caring less and less the more often he was telling himself he was now way too attached.)
Mr. Suzuki gave Shota a hard stare before nodding, giving the happy nurse the signal they were allowed to be taken to visit Izuku.
The nurse beamed at him before turning to talk to Shota. Her smile was bright and gleaming, practically blinding. She waved to Shota and Hizashi, gesturing her hand to show she wanted them to follow her. “Come with me! Little Izuku will love that you’re here!”
“I hope you don’t mind if I come, too,” Hizashi said, finally trying to make his presence known. “I can stay outside while he talks to the little listener. I guess I’m just here for emotional support.”
“Are you a hero, too?” she asked, already directing them both toward the section of the hospital where the children stayed. “If so, I’m sure he’d love to talk to you. He loves talking about quirks and heroes. It’s really cute!”
He realized quickly that the woman, introducing herself as “Ami,” liked to talk. Her chattiness along with her high energy was annoying, but it wasn't the time to complain, even if he really wanted to after the amount of sleep he got. He’d had enough practice dealing with the personality type being around Hizashi, so he could deal with it okay enough for now until after he’d finally get to visit Izuku Midoriya.
She hesitated a moment outside of the door Shota assumed was Izuku’s, her demeanor suddenly shifting to something nowhere near the brightness she’d had a moment ago.
“Just so you know, he’s been scared and has cried a lot. It’s been rough, but I think that just means he gets the seriousness of the situation,” she admitted sadly, twisting her fingers together in nervousness. She directed her gaze to Shota specifically. “Even though we’ve been able to calm him down now that he’s been here for a while, he’s still not in the best state. I think it will be really good for him to see you. Little Izuku has been asking about you. He won’t say why he wants to see you, I can only assume he’s asking because he really wants something. He’s genuine like that.”
Shota nodded. “Right.”
She smiled gratefully before addressing Hizashi. “Would you mind waiting out here? I just want to give little Izuku a moment with him.”
Hizashi just gave a thumbs up paired with an enthusiastic nod, giving his approval. Shota knew this was only for the moment, but at least he’d get a moment with Izuku without a loud blonde overpowering the conversation. Besides, Shota knew he wouldn’t mind too much talking with Ami, not when they had the same sort of enthusiasm Shota very much did not.
Ami brought Shota into Izuku’s room, and he noticed how Izuku was silent as he sat up in his bed. His body was tense and there were dark circles under his eyes, a look that didn’t fit a six-year-old. He had a notebook in front of him, moving his pencil over the paper to create something Shota couldn’t see from where he stood at the door.
“Look who I brought, Izuku!” she said excitedly, and much too loud for a hospital.
Izuku was startled at the sudden noise. He’d been too lost in his thoughts he hadn’t noticed Shota entering the room with Ami. He focused in particular on Shota.
“You saved me,” Izuku said, looking up at him with wide eyes.
“It’s what heroes do,” Shota replied, keeping his initial words and tone as calm and easy as he could. He hoped to start the visit off with Izuku feeling comfortable enough to talk. Making him freeze up and push people away would do nothing good for the conversation or the future.
“I’ll be back, little Izuku,” Ami said happily, patting the mess of green hair before turning to leave.
Once she left to create the nightmare that is Hizashi x2, Shota sat on the chair next to Izuku’s bed. He pushed back the thoughts of how badly he’d wished it was his yellow sleeping bag.
He was initially unsure of what to do or say, before deciding on asking him about something it seemed he would be willing to talk to Shota about. He didn’t want to get into anything deep, or at least not yet. Whatever they talked about would be based on what Izuku wanted for now. The last thing he needed was a kid unwilling to get help. He knew what he had to do right now.
Shota leaned forward to look at what Izuku had been doing in the notebook, deciding first to ask about what he’d been so focused on which seemed like it’d be a safe topic. “What’s that?”
“It’s my hero notebook,” Izuku said, his attention going back to the open notebook in his lap. “I like writing about heroes and quirks.”
Shota didn’t immediately say anything. At this point there was what he wanted to say, and what he needed to say. He was realistic, and being a hero was his job. He decided that now would be the best time for what was needed, even if it meant he had to delve into a topic Izuku might want to avoid. Shota didn’t want to do that to him, not after what he’s been through. Again, for Izuku there were things that were necessary, and exactly what he was going to do.
“The police said you were only asking about me and wouldn’t say there was anybody else who’s close to you,” Shota said. He didn’t want to come across as chastising Izuku, but if there was somebody they could find to help he’d continue. His father wasn’t an option, not at all, and Izuku still wouldn’t give any names. There had to be somebody. “Don’t you think you should find somebody the police can talk to? Not a stranger?”
“But you’re not a stranger,” the kid replied easily, looking at Shota with confusion apparent in wide eyes. “You’re Eraserhead. The hero.”
Shota frowned. He didn’t have an immediate answer, not to that. He hadn’t introduced himself properly yet. He hadn’t realized how much information the police had released to Izuku, because that’s really the only explanation Izuku connected the name with his face. He really wished the police woman he’d talked to yesterday had told him about what the police had told Izuku. This didn’t seem normal, not when he wasn’t saving hurt civilians in front of cameras where all of Japan knew his hero and civilian name. He wasn’t immediately known, and the police didn’t really bother to give a name to people he saved, especially when Shota liked to keep himself in the underground as much as he could on his own.
He wasn’t popular, and he liked not being popular. For some reason, Izuku was saying he knew who he was.
Izuku, apparently noticing Shota’s sudden switch in mood, flipped back through the pages of his “hero notebook,” being highly focused. His eyes scanned each page, before landing on the page he was searching for with a little nod. He lifted up the book for Shota to look at. “When I saw you stopped the villain’s quirk, I knew it was you.”
He realized as he looked ahead at the page Izuku was addressing he really did know who Shota was. There it was, in front of him was information on “Eraserhead.” There was a short description of him, most of it being little notes analyzing his quirk. He was six, and the handwriting and terms were most definitely that of a six-year-old, but the notes themselves had content that reflected a different mindset than most kids at his age didn’t have. The kid was actually really intelligent. He knew a lot about quirks and quirk analysis, and yeah, kids could be smart, but this felt different. This was a different, focused sort of intelligence on a topic most kids didn’t think about.
“Erasing other quirks is really cool,” Izuku said before pulling the notebook back to him, holding it as if it was precious. It probably was precious to him. Shota could tell with the attention to detail it was something he cared about. “A-and I asked about you because you s-saved me. There isn’t a-anybody else I could ask to help.”
Shota suddenly didn’t want to ask anything else on the matter, not when the kid looked so emotionally exhausted. He also began stuttering, giving Shota the impression there was a lot more information the police didn’t have than they realized. Hopefully he could get it.
“Can I see that?” he asked, pointing ahead to indicate he wanted to see the notebook.
Izuku hesitated, having an internal dilemma on what he should do. It looked like he wanted to keep it safe, but at the same time let Shota see the contents of the book. Eventually, he nodded, handing the notebook over for Shota to look at.
After it was handed over to him, he realized the kids “hero notebook” was interesting. The first thing Shota noticed that on the outside of the book there was the number 3 scrawled on it, meaning Shota could only assume that this was the third book the kid had filled out about heroes and quirks. Second thing he noticed was as he looked at the pages inside the notebook, there were a lot of heroes that were all labeled properly based on quirk type as “emitter,” “mutant,” and “transformation,” as well as small notes on the specificity of the quirk itself. Some had more information than others, but Shota could only assume it was because he noted some of these heroes tried to be more private than others. His page, while there, didn’t have as much information as Best Jeanist or Thirteen. While some had more information and some less, all of them identified a hero and their quirk—a description, some details, the pros and cons, and some had costumes and physical attributes.
(He could have corrected the small note about “Midnight” in his notebook on his misinterpretation of what “R-rated” meant, but that was something he really didn’t want to do. Similarly with his questions about her intentions with her costume—nothing he wanted to explain. He knew Nemuri wanted to be here this time, and Shota couldn’t blame her and didn’t really mind that she did, but maybe it was best she wasn’t here to answer the questions and see the comments all about her.)
“Where did you learn all this?” Shota asked, his attention currently on the page describing Edgeshot.
“I like watching the news,” Izuku admitted nervously, fidgeting from his spot on the hospital bed as Shota flipped through more pages. He was worried about Shota looking at his book. His reaction was something Shota didn’t entirely understand, but he didn’t like it. There was something unpleasant about watching a kid think he’s about to be scolded over something as harmless as this. “Seeing heroes makes me happy.”
“You learned about me on the news?” Shota asked, knowing well that wasn't true.
He shook his head. “People talk about all kinds of pro-heroes online. I-I look—look for different heroes there, too. Anywhere I can find information.”
So Izuku really liked doing this, that much was apparent. Even more, it most definitely looked like more than a hobby.
Izuku was silent for a moment after that, causing Shota to look back up at him.
He looked like he was going to cry. This was not good, not when Shota realized only just now Izuku had only calmed down in the first place after the attack because he realized who Eraserhead was. He couldn’t repeat that.
“If I had a quirk,” Izuku began quietly, gripping the sheets tightly. “Could I have saved my mom?”
“It’s not the quirk that matters,” Shota answered honestly, not going to lie. “It’s somebody like me who’s supposed to save people. You can’t blame yourself.”
“But I wasn’t strong at all,” Izuku replied, tears finally starting to fall from his eyes. “I want to be a hero. I want to save people, so why couldn’t I save my mom?”
Oh. The kid wanted to be a hero.
That wasn’t strange, a lot of kids wanted to be heroes. There were entire high school’s meant to teach kids how to be heroes, as Shota knew very well having gone to one himself. The problem here was the sort of mindset that came with wanting to be a hero, whether they be successful at making it to hero status or not. It was worse here because it was coming from a kid who had the mind he did. It was like he said—he wanted to save people. Shota remembered what he feels when he sees people die, not wanting to think too much about the thoughts running through the kids head about not being able to save his own mother.
“Even the best heroes can’t save everybody,” Shota said, giving information he knew most heroes would claim they shouldn’t say to kids. He supposed this case was different, and shouldn’t be judged too harshly at this point for answering what he did. If he was judged he’d probably do it anyway. He repeated to himself that Izuku needed this. “Don’t tell yourself you were the one who was supposed to save you and your mom. Villains exist, and you’re not the one who tells them to do anything. Villains actions are their own, and the villain that hurt you was no different.”
The tears were streaming down Izuku’s face now. “And he won’t hurt anybody else?”
Shota didn’t find it as surprising as he usually would with other kids going through something like this to say something selfless, not when Izuku had shown what sort of character he had so far.
Shota shook his head. “He’s in prison now.”
“Thank you,” Izuku said, voice wobbly. “For being a hero.”
Shota probably didn’t deserve being thanked by the kid whose mom he couldn’t save, but that just seemed to be who Izuku was. He was hurt, emotionally and physically, and he wanted to keep the villain from other people.
Shota was realistic and knew not every kid was going to make their “hero” dream, but even if he didn’t become one, Izuku sure had that self-sacrificial, heroic mindset that some admired, some hated. It was, of course, dangerous, meaning Shota didn’t know if he liked or disliked seeing that sort of quality in Izuku.
“You like heroes, right? Do you know Present Mic?” Shota asked, ready to change the subject if it meant Izuku would stop crying.
Izuku had a small smile on his face and nodded, the tears he’d been shedding only temporarily stopping.“I love his radio show! Do you like him, too?”
That was somewhat of an understatement. They’d been friends since high-school. Hizashi had picked his hero name, “Eraserhead.” They both knew each other well, and Shota especially knew him well enough to know he’d be offended if Shota didn’t finally let him talk to the kid, too. If Izuku got something out of meeting the hero he liked with his own radio show then that was just a bonus.
“Yeah,” Shota said with a short nod. “He came here with me. He wants to meet you.”
It turned out Hizashi did, in fact, really want to meet Izuku and had easily accepted when Shota asked him to enter Izuku’s room.
If Izuku’s hero notebook hadn’t already told Shota how much Izuku liked heroes, he would have believed the statement after Hizashi entered the room to visit.
Izuku had questions, questions Hizashi was all too eager to answer. There were comments about heroes that had been on the radio show, as well as questions about the pro’s Hizashi had met before. He wanted to know a lot, and Shota thanked that Hizashi was able to keep up (this was all too easy when he clearly wanted to be giving answers and accepting other comments). Shota could have lived without the compliments Hizashi got and would be talking about for the next few days, but if that’s where the conversation went he’ll deal with it. He mainly remained silent at that point, letting the two talk about what they wanted. Seeing a smile on the face of a kid who probably hadn’t smiled the past few days was somewhat comforting. It wasn’t at all a promise anything would be easy for Izuku from that point on, but it did mean in the moment he could forget enough to believe things were okay.
It was almost comical how Hizashi and Izuku had the same sort of expression when Ami regretfully told them Izuku had a visit with a doctor soon and she’d let them stay longer than she’d been supposed to anyway.
“I’m going to stay with little Izuku after you leave. So cute, right?” Ami said with a beaming smile after they’d left the room. She then looked behind them before waving. “Hi, Ms. Takahashi! Are you here to see little Izuku, too?”
Shota’s eyes directed to where Ami was looking. Ms. Takahashi didn’t have the same sort of presence Ami did. She gave them an indifferent look Shota recognized as one he’d regularly have on a daily basis, one showing she did not want to be there. Maybe not the best expression to have around a children’s ward, but he didn’t have the right to judge.
Ms. Takashi sighed. “Yes, Ms. Ito. It is my shift, after all.”
Ami blinked owlishly at her before she reached in her pocket to take out and look at her phone. She winced slightly when she looked at the screen. “It is! I’m sorry.” She addressed Hizashi and Shota with one last smile. Frazzled as she seemed now, she still tried to be the human embodiment of sunshine. Shota didn’t really understand having that amount of energy, but now wasn’t the time to complain, even if he knew being around her too much longer would have caused an eventual headache. “Thanks again for visiting little Izuku!”
She waved before walking quickly away, apparently needing to be somewhere for some reason or other. Shota didn’t know or care.
“It’s good you saw him today if that’s what you really wanted. In a day or so he’ll go into foster care,” Ms. Takahashi said to both of them simply. “I didn’t think you’d come at all, if I’m being honest. That, or you’d be too late and he’d already be at a foster home. Hero work keeps you busy, right?”
Hearing that felt wrong.
“I think I’ll miss him,” Hizashi said, a half smile on his face. “But he’s a good kid. He’ll have a good family in no time.”
The nurse looked at him strangely. “He won’t get adopted.”
Hizashi blinked at her. “What?”
Shota unfortunately didn’t even feel half of the confusion Hizashi did. He wasn’t an optimist who believed that something like this had for sure a “happily ever after.” He knew what sort of system existed for kids without parents, a kid like Izuku.
“He’s weaker than most kids because he doesn’t have a quirk, and he’s strange, too,” the nurse said sadly with a sigh. “No child like that is going to get adopted.”
Hizashi frowned. “‘Strange?’” he repeated, most likely disliking her claiming that as much as Shota did. “You think he’s strange?”
She nodded. “As I said, he’s weak. Also, Ms. Ito might like him a lot and find all that quirk stuff endearing, but the rest of us think it’s a little too obsessive. Poor thing probably doesn’t even realize it’s because he wants one so much and can’t handle being who he is. No potential parent is going to want that kind of baggage.”
Shota didn’t care about people’s opinions of him, not really. He didn’t care, so he was very willing to give his opinion on what the nurse was trying to claim. None of what she was saying was true, and he was fine with letting her know this.
Hizashi cared enough about the public opinion enough for the both of them and made sure to speak before Shota said something that’d get him in trouble. “That’s not true. I’m sure he’ll be alright.”
She paused a moment. “There aren’t many quirks as useless as Ms. Ito—she can only change the color of her hair to three different natural colors—and I don’t think even she would ever adopt a kid as needy as that child.”
“Maybe you should see how he’s doing before he sees the next doctor,” Shota said spitefully.
Not noticing the harsh tone of voice, Ms. Takahashi nodded in agreement. “You’re right. At least it’s only a few more days. I don’t know how much more I can handle, and I’ve worked with sick children for 7 years.”
There were a lot of words to describe how Shota felt about what she’d said, he decided to say none of them. He really wanted to say something, anything for the sake of a kid going through the worst possible situation for any child to go through, and he didn’t. Now wasn’t the time or place. He didn’t say anything, he did however glare at her retreating body as she walked into Izuku’s room. As intense as she was, he wanted Ami back here to be Izuku’s nurse. He could only guess how she treated Izuku, and he figured it wasn’t pleasant.
“What are we going to do?” Hizashi asked when she was gone, looking at Shota worriedly. He hated the conversation as much as Shota, his usually eternal optimism nearly depleted at that point.
“Not let him go in the broken foster system that will accept him as much as his father and that nurse,” Shota replied, knowing what he was going to do even if he had no idea how he was going to execute it. “We don’t know who’ll get him and I don’t want to take that risk. I want to adopt him.”
Hizashi looked at him with an expression of complete bewilderment. “You WHAT?!”
“Be quiet. We’re in a hospital,” Shota said, giving him an annoyed look. “And you heard me.”
Hizashi continued to look like he thought he’d lost his mind. “And you call me crazy and impulsive. You’ve only known about him, what? Four days? Finally just met him today.”
“It might be impulsive, but as I said just now. I won’t let him in the foster system, and if that means I adopt him that's what’s happening.”
It was only a moment before Hizashi smiled in a way only he could when such an idea was suggested. “I guess I don’t really want him to go away either. The little listener is a pretty cool kid, and you’re right. The foster system won’t be good for him if anything else we’ve heard is anything to go by.”
He realized then that he was actually going to adopt a kid he’d saved. He’d never thought this could be a possibility. He left, it’s just what he did. He did what he needed to for the sake of the victims and didn’t stick around.
Izuku was different. He was a good, genuine kid who didn’t deserve what the world was throwing at him, and Shota vowed to himself he was going to change that.