Work Text:
Hizashi sat on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, while the news idly ran in the background. He tried to ignore the dry sting in his eyes as he flipped to another news station, determined to stay awake until his husband left.
Shouta padded into the living room, socks muffling his footsteps against the floor. He was half-dressed into his hero costume, his belt missing from his jumper and his goggles haphazardly dangling from the crook of his elbow. He opened the cupboard where he kept his snacks for work, pulled out a juice pouch, and frowned.
“What’s up?” Hizashi asked, sitting up a bit.
“I’m out of juice pouches,” Shouta grumbled. “I’ll have to stop by the store after work.”
Now it was Hizashi’s turn to frown. “How long is your shift?”
“I get off at twelve.”
“Uh, yeah, no. You’re not walking through town at midnight.”
Shouta ran a hand through his hair, bending over by the door to pick up his shoes. He walked over to the couch and settled down, pulling his boots on and zipping them up.
“I go all the time. I’ll be fine.” Shouta rose from the couch and sauntered into the kitchen. He grabbed his capture weapon and his belt from the table, wrapping the material around his neck and securing the belt around his waist.
Hizashi followed him into the kitchen, switching off the TV as he went. He stood against the counter, leaning his weight onto one leg. “I don’t have patrol today, it’s no big deal. I’d rather you come straight home after.”
Shouta pulled his goggles off his arm, yanking them over his head until they rested on his forehead. “Are you sure? Because I can just go afterwards, another hour out won’t bother me.” He pulled his hair out of the strap and let it flow down his back, then mussed up his hair a bit with his fingers.
Hizashi hummed. “I’d rather go out now than have your tired butt do it later. Besides, I have to pick up some things for meal prepping this Sunday anyways. No use going out twice when I can get it done in one trip.”
Shouta rolled his eyes. “If you say so.”
Hizashi grinned, sauntering over to give his husband a quick kiss. Shouta smiled again. He reached out to boop Hizashi on the nose. “Be safe out there, Eraserhead.”
Shouta smirked. “No guarantees.” He slipped out the front door, leaving Hizashi behind in an empty apartment.
“Mrrow.”
Well, an almost-empty apartment.
“What do you think, Smudge? I guess I should get going, huh.”
Smudge blinked up at him, then licked her paw.
“Good answer,” he chuckled. He squatted down to stroke his fingers over her fuzzy head. She meowed indignantly and swiped at his hand.
“Be good while I’m gone, got that?” he called, pulling his coat on. He slipped on his sneakers and tugged the cuffs of his jeans down. Smudge let out a “mrrp” and sauntered off in the direction of the bedroom.
Hizashi sighed, slipping his phone into his coat pocket, and left the apartment.
The commute wasn’t terrible, all things considered– the heat was running, magically, which meant that he wasn’t shivering the entire way, and no one recognized him with his hair down. He didn’t mind the fame and attention he got as a pro-hero– he loved it, really– but something about having fans gush over him while he was just going about his business rubbed him the wrong way.
On the brief walk to his and Shouta’s current favorite grocery store– a mom-and-pop store with frequent discounts on items– Hizashi pulled out his phone. He typed up the shopping list, and ran it over a few times to make sure he had everything. He entered the store a little while later, nose buried into his collar to keep out the cold, and picked up a basket from the entryway.
He went through the aisles, frowning when he realized that the store was unnaturally crowded. He pushed his way through the crowds, trying to avoid the more populated areas and shop for the items near the edges of the store first. He gradually filled up his basket as he went, crossing more and more items off the list until eventually, all he had left was cereal.
He made his way into the cereal aisle, trying to decide which to get. He knew that Shouta preferred the plain kinds, like cheerios and rice squares, but he personally liked the more flavorful stuff. He didn’t want to spend a fortune on just cereal alone, though, so he picked out one of each type and was on his way.
Barely a moment after he’d crossed off the cereal from his shopping list, there was a strange thump originating from the adjacent aisle. Hizashi frowned, but didn’t think much of it. Suddenly, a shriek from somewhere behind him pierced through the air.
Hizashi sprinted towards the source of the noise, letting out a sigh of relief when he didn’t see any obvious threat.
“Izuku! Izuku!”
Right, something was still wrong. There was a display in the middle of the aisle blocking his view. He shivered from the cold emitting from the fridges and freezers surrounding him and ducked around the display. He pushed his way through the quickly-forming crowd surrounding… something. Hizashi didn’t know what yet.
“Move! I’m a pro-hero!”
Hizashi paused for a moment at the sight of a little boy– no older than ten– lying prone on the floor. There was blood pooling up at the base of his hairline, where a nasty-looking gash ran across it. A woman– his mother, going by their matching hair– had grabbed a hold of his shoulders and was violently shaking him, calling his name.
Hizashi snapped back into himself, dropping his basket and sliding across the floor on his knees until he was next to the kid. “Don’t shake him, he could have a concussion,” he ordered, grabbing the woman’s hands to steady her movements. The woman’s head shot up, eyes wide and frantic.
Hizashi grimaced. He looked up, eyes locking onto a young woman in the crowd. “Yo! Purple hair!”
“Me?”
“Call an ambulance!”
The woman looked frazzled at the sudden attention, but she nodded, whipping out her phone. Hizashi looked down and redirected his focus onto the child. He couldn’t see anything visibly wrong with him other than the gash on his head, which was leaking blood faster than Hizashi would have liked it to. He shrugged his coat off, folded it, and placed it behind the kid’s head.
“What happened?” he asked, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice. He reached into his pocket for his personal first aid kit, opening it and removing a wad of gauze.
“I don’t know!” She cried. “I looked away for a second, and he was on the floor! Please, is he going to be okay?!”
He pressed the gauze against the wound. “Please, calm down,” he urged.
“Why is he bleeding so much?”
“Head wounds tend to do that.” He scanned the boy’s features– his lax face, the freckles on his cheeks, the little starburst scar beside his ear. “What’s his name?”
“I-Izuku.”
“Izuku, can you hear me? I need you to stay awake, okay?”
Izuku’s eyes fluttered open. He squinted harshly against the lights above him. His head weakly jerked to his shoulder– once, twice, then three times in succession.
Hizashi frowned. “Can you hold his head in place, please?” He pressed two fingers to Izuku’s neck, monitoring his pulse for a few seconds to make sure everything was fine in that regard, and quickly placed his other hand back onto the gauze.
The woman nodded, wordless, and scooted around so she sat behind her son’s head, her hands coming up to rest over each ear. The head jerking never stopped– it was only stifled by the woman’s firm grip.
Hizashi pressed his lips together, worrying his lip between his teeth. Blood was starting to soak through the gauze, drop by drop. “Does anyone have another piece of cloth?!” he hollered in the general direction of the crowd.
Some people shook their heads. Others searched to no avail, until an older man stepped forward. “Will this work?” he asked, holding out a windbreaker.
Hizashi nodded. “Bring it here.
“Um..” the purple-haired girl from before stepped forward, cradling her phone in her hands. “I just got off the phone. They’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“Thank you,” he nodded, just as the man approached with the jacket. He took it, folded one corner in on itself, and removed the gauze, stifling the flow as soon as it started oozing down his face again. Izuku stirred, eyes darting back and forth between Hizashi and the ceiling. His breathing picked up, looking at Hizashi with a wordless question clear in his eyes.
“It’s gonna be okay, little listener,” he soothed. “The ambulance is on its way.”
Izuku didn’t verbally respond. Instead, his eyes squeezed shut and he let out a sound not unlike a hiccup.
“Even now he’s doing that?” She murmured. Her hands loosened their grip on his head.
“What do you mean?”
Izuku’s head jerked to his shoulder again. The woman held his head in place again, tears welling up in her eyes yet refusing to make their way down her cheeks. “He does these weird movements– I think it’s an attention thing. He jerks his head like that and yells out things. I was hesitant to take him out today, he’s been acting out more than usual…” her voice trailed off. “I didn’t think he’d hurt himself for attention, though.”
Hizashi furrowed his brow. He stared down at the half-unconscious boy, trying to discern why he would be jerking his head when he was in so much pain. Did he have Tourettes or something? That was the only logical explanation. He’d seen it before. His whole life revolved being around stressed-out people, and tics got worse with stress from what he knew. He knew someone whose quirk would act out every time she ticced, leading to a heapload of fines before a doctor had diagnosed the problem and she’d been given quirk suppressants to stop them…
Nevermind– that wasn’t important. He needed to focus on keeping the boy’s head injury under control and keeping the crowd back until emergency services got there. They’d been inching closer without his realizing.
He cleared his throat. “Please stand back! We need to make sure the paramedics can get through!”
The crowd complied, some breaking off to leave, others simply moving to the side and continuing to stare. Hizashi sighed. You could only do so much against natural human curiosity. Short of letting out several quirk-enhanced screams to drive them off (which probably would result in a lifetime ban from the establishment), there was nothing Hizashi could do to quell it.
“Um, are you a hero? I remember you mentioning something about it before.” The woman refused to make eye contact.
Hizashi nodded. “My hero name’s Present Mic.”
“I don’t think I’ve heard of you.”
“I only started a couple years ago. What’s your name?”
The woman gave a tight grimace– something that Hizashi interpreted as an attempt at a smile. “Midoriya Inko.”
“I assume Izuku is your son?”
“Yes.”
“Can you call your spouse? I don’t think you should be alone at the hospital with him.”
Inko shook her head. “He’s away in America for business. Izuku’s my only child.”
He nodded. “Would you mind if I came with you then? It wouldn’t sit right with me if I let you go alone.”
Inko nodded, giving a small smile. “Thank you, Present Mic.”
Hizashi gave her a smile in return, then looked back down at Izuku. “Come on, little listener, I need you to keep those eyes open for me.”
If Izuku heard him, he gave no indication. His eyes slipped shut, his once-frantic wheezes settling until he almost seemed to be asleep.
That… wasn’t good.
Hizashi may not have been a medical worker, but he’d taken enough first aid courses to know that sleeping with a head injury wasn’t a good sign.
He gently slapped Izuku’s cheek, careful not to jostle his head. “Izuku, you need to wake up,” he said, firmly.
Izuku didn’t respond.
“Is– that’s not good, is it?” Inko asked. Her eyes flitted between the hero and her son.
“No, but I’m sure he’ll be fine.” He shot what he hoped resembled a reassuring grin at the worried mother. “The ambulance will be here any minute now. He’ll be in good hands.”
As if right on cue, a siren’s wail sounded from outside. The sirens stopped. “Inko, please step back,” he instructed.
“What’s gonna happen?” Inko asked.
“They’re gonna check him and ask for his information, and then you guys will be on your way to the hospital.”
Two paramedics rushed in, one wheeling in a stretcher with a body board on top and the other toting a bulky medical kit. One dropped beside Izuku, opening the kit and retrieving medical-grade gauze, allowing Hizashi to release the firm pressure he’d been placing onto the wound.
“Mic,” one of them acknowledged– a thorough once-over of his face revealed him to be Satoshi, a paramedic Hizashi recognized from the scene of a particularly violent hero/villain clash a while back.
“Satoshi.” He attempted a polite smile.
Satoshi bent over the unconscious boy, pressing the gauze to his head. “Details?”
“Um–” Inko looked at Hizashi.
Hizashi smiled. “This is Midoriya Izuku. He collapsed about twenty minutes ago. Most likely hit his head on the way down. He seems concussed– he was responsive until about two minutes ago. His mother can tell you his details.”
“Alright, we’ll get the details ironed out on the way,” Satoshi’s partner said. He was applying a brace around Izuku’s neck. “Get the stretcher ready.”
Satoshi made quick work of wrapping a long strip of gauze around Izuku’s head, tying it off quite tightly. Once he was done, he rose and retrieved the body board, laying it on the ground and fiddling with the straps.
“Ready.” Satoshi announced.
The two paramedics slid Izuku onto the body board, securing him before they stood up and efficiently maneuvered him onto the stretcher. All throughout, Izuku didn’t so much as move a muscle. “I take it you’re his mother?” The other paramedic asked while he and Satoshi worked to secure the straps around Izuku.
Inko nodded.
“You’ll be riding in the back with him.”
Satoshi turned to Hizashi. “Will you be coming with?”
Hizashi nodded. “Yeah, if that’s okay.”
“You can ride up front. Just don’t get in the way,” the other paramedic said– Hizashi would have to catch his name later. “Grab the kit, please.”
“Ah– sure.” Hizashi snapped the medical kit shut, hefting himself up. Inko followed suit, gazing nervously at the blood-soaked coat on the ground.
The two paramedics rushed down the aisles with the stretcher between them. Inko and Hizashi followed close behind. Once outside, the paramedics hoisted the stretcher into the ambulance, securing it into place and setting up medical equipment around them. Hizashi set the kit down on one of the counters, going around the ambulance to climb into the front seat. Inko hovered anxiously outside, pacing back and forth like she didn’t know what to do.
Several minutes later, Satoshi came around to the front, reaching up to switch on the siren. He smiled at Hizashi and jammed his keys into the ignition. “Don’t worry, he’s gonna be okay.”
Hizashi breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good to hear.”
Satoshi hummed. “You’re accompanying her to the hospital, eh?” he smirked, as if he wasn’t the one who offered it in the first place.
Hizashi sputtered. “Satoshi, I’m married!” He raised his right hand to show off his ring.
Satoshi barked out a laugh. “I know.”
Hizashi settled back into his seat, fondness bubbling up inside his heart. “He’s a pretty swell dude, ya dig?”
Satoshi laughed. “I bet he is.”
The two chatted idly for the rest of the trip, Satoshi occasionally calling back to ask about Izuku’s vitals. They pulled up to the hospital, and Satoshi climbed out to help his partner. They wheeled Izuku inside, leaving Inko and Hizashi behind.
“C-can I follow them?” she asked, looking up at him with a hint of desperation in her voice.
Hizashi shook his head. “They need to do their work,” he said with a tinge of regret. “We can sit in the waiting room.”
Inko nodded, fiddling with her purse. Hizashi shivered, belatedly realizing his only form of protection against the harsh November chill around him was a t-shirt and jeans. His jacket was presumably still on the floor of the grocery store, soaked in blood and probably unwashable at this point. Hizashi didn’t have any sentimental value linked to the coat, so he wasn’t keen on retrieving it. He could always buy a new one.
He led Inko inside, having been in the building enough to know his way around. He directed her to the waiting room, guiding her along until she got herself settled into a chair. Hizashi took the seat next to her, leaned back, and pulled out his phone to check the time.
It was a little past two. He had a little while before Shouta got off– only about ten hours or so. Not long at all. Nope. Just ten freaking hours.
He swiped out of his grocery list and pulled up his and Shouta’s last conversation.
Me: Hey!! I’m at the hospital right now! I can’t pick up the groceries, we can do that tomorrow
To his surprise, Shouta responded not even ten seconds later.
Sho-chan <3: do i need to pick you up later
Me: I can take the train, Sho, don’t worry!!
Sho-chan <3: are you injured?
Me: Nope! Don’t worry! I’ll explain later. You should get back to work!
Sho-chan <3: okay. love you.
Me: Love you too! <333333
Hizashi smiled at his phone, tucking it against his chest and turning it off. Inko looked up at him in curiosity. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks blotchy– when had she started to cry? “Are you texting your wife?” she asked.
“Husband,” he corrected, “just told him where I was.”
Inko nodded. Thankfully she didn’t stir up a fuss about how “wrong” his marriage was, instead leaning back in her seat to dab at her eyes with her sleeve. “I didn’t realize you were married,” she said.
He smiled. “He’s the love of my life. He keeps me in line, I make sure he doesn’t work himself to death. It’s a mutual thing.”
Inko sighed, thankfully not crying anymore. “Must be nice.”
“Ah– you said your husband is overseas?” She nodded. “That must be difficult on you.”
She shrugged. “I’m basically a single mother. I can count the number of times he’s tried to contact me on two hands.”
“That’s shitty.”
If she was put off by his language, she didn’t show it. “Maybe,” she sighed. “I don’t have the heart to leave him. He sends money, and I barely make anything, so I’ll take anything we can get, even if it means having a distant husband.” She blinked, covering her mouth. “Ah- I’m sorry. I ranted for a bit there.”
“That’s okay,” Hizashi reassured her. “I can’t imagine how difficult that must be. I hope his quirk isn’t too much to handle on top of that.”
Inko’s face fell, and Hizashi knew he’d struck a delicate chord. “Izuku’s quirkless, actually.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize.”
“It’s okay,” she said, smiling tightly. “At least I don’t have to worry about all the legal troubles like some other parents do.”
Hizashi grimaced. “Kids these days are ruthless.”
Inko nodded. “It just seems so rare nowadays, especially in the younger generation.”
“It’s not even all that rare. The number of quirkless folks in the whole world is, what, twenty percent?”
“I think so. That sounds right.”
“It’s unfair,” Hizashi sighed. “People treat them like the worst of the worst. My husband is functionally quirkless, and the shit he’s told me…” Hizashi whistled.
Inko shook her head. “You’re one of the first people I’ve known who talk like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like quirkless people are actually people.”
“That’s bullshit– the, the fact that not a lot of people treat them fairly,” he was quick to correct.
Inko nodded, and the conversation shifted to a lighter topic.
After about three hours, Hizashi was starting to get hungry. He was just about to get up and head home when–
“Midoriya?”
Inko bolted upright, turning to look at the person who called her name. Hizashi stood too, looking over to find a nurse with a clipboard held out in front of her. The nurse waved them over.
“Izuku has a moderate concussion,” she informed curtly, “the doctor will fill you in, but he’s stable and he’s starting to show signs of waking up.”
“No lasting damage?” Hizashi couldn’t help but ask.
The nurse’s eyes flitted between them, and for a second Hizashi thought she wouldn’t tell him, but then her gaze settled on their wedding rings and she spoke. “No,” she said. “There shouldn’t be.”
Inko let out a relieved sigh, a genuine smile crossing her face. She and the nurse started down the hall, only for Inko to pause a few feet down.
“Yamada-san? Are you coming?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Nah, I’ve gotta get home. Make dinner, feed the cat, all that jazz.”
Inko nodded. “Well, um, thank you.” She bowed.
“Aw, it was nothing. I was off-duty anyway. I’m glad the little listener’s gonna be alright.”
Inko smiled. He waved at her, turning away. “It was nice to meet you, Midoriya-san! I wish you and Izuku the best of luck!”
And so, Hizashi left them, satisfied that he was able to do his part, and went home.
.
.
.
“What was yesterday about, by the way?”
Hizashi opened his eyes, looking up at his husband. Shouta shifted his legs, jarring Hizashi’s once-peaceful trance. “What, you mean the hospital?”
Shouta nodded, running his hands through Hizashi’s hair. “I thought you got injured or something.”
Hizashi grinned, adjusting his position in his husband’s lap. “Nah, I just went to keep someone company.”
“Who?”
“A civilian woman. Her son had to go to the hospital, and her husband is overseas, so I went to keep her company.”
Shouta hummed. “That was nice of you. Do you know what happened?”
He nodded. “Her son banged his head pretty good on something. I administered first aid until the paramedics got there.” He grimaced at the memory. “Head injuries always bleed a lot.”
Shouta nodded, petting Hizashi’s hair. “I’m glad you were there to help, then.”
Smudge jumped up onto the couch, settling herself onto Hizashi’s stomach. He giggled at the cat, who was now ignoring him as if his only purpose was to provide a comfortable surface for her to lay on (which, knowing the little demon, that was probably exactly what she thought of him).
Everything was calm for once, which was nice. Sunday was the one day every week where Shouta and Hizashi didn’t have any responsibilities. They could have quiet moments like this, which was nice after a long week of work.
Hizashi looked up to find that Shouta had dozed off, despite it being three in the afternoon. He let out a huff of amusement, sitting up briefly to press a kiss onto his cheek, before going to lay back down on his lap.
He was just glad that he could help.
.
.
.
Hizashi practically skipped down the hall to 1-A, a grin split across his face. He was a naturally happy person, but today he was giddier than usual. His and Shouta’s anniversary was right around the corner, and he only had to go out on patrol twice this entire week (he was using a considerable amount of his vacation days), so things were really looking up for the time being. Being in a good mood certainly made it easier to appear chipper in front of the students.
As he made his way to the classroom, he bumped into Shouta, who looked one hundred percent done with the world, and, strangely, Midoriya, who was fiddling anxiously with his fingers.
Something about the whole situation– the quickly-reddening spot on his forehead and the green hair– felt very familiar. He squinted, eyeing him up and down, until it dawned on him.”
“Heyy! I know you! You’re that kid from the grocery store!”
Midoriya flinched. “What?”
Ah– it made sense that he wouldn’t remember it. He was pretty delirious at the time. Hizashi barely remembered him- he’d been so small when he last saw him, and his face had been drenched in blood, and he hadn’t been fully awake.
Shouta turned to him, cocking his head. “You’ve met before?”
Midoriya’s eyes widened in recognition. His face screwed up and he let out a loud “whoo!” not unlike the ones he yelled in class. “Oh! Yeah, I remember you!”
“Man, you’ve grown so much since then! I barely recognized you.”
“I was beginning to think that was some kind of weird fever dream,” Midoriya nervously laughed.
“I’m confused,” Shouta frowned, looking between Hizashi and Midoriya. “When did you two meet?”
“I was going grocery shopping with my mom,” Midoriya explained, “and I wound up slamming my head into one of those door thingies– you know, the fridges in the dairy aisle?”
“I happened to be walking. I just made sure he didn’t bleed out on the floor.”
“I never got to thank you for that, by the way,” Midoriya smiled back. “My mom probably would have ended up making my concussion worse.”
Hizashi looked at the kid’s forehead again. “What happened there?” he asked, nodding toward his general direction.
“He hit his head on his desk,” Shouta snorted, “the similarities here are uncanny.”
Hizashi stared, then burst out laughing. “Man, you really are an interesting one, huh Little Listener?” Midoriya giggled.
“Oh, yeah,” Midoriya grinned, “turns out I have Tourette’s. Which is why I–” he gestured vaguely around him. “You know.”
“Ah,” Hizashi leaned back, then straightened up. “That makes sense. You headed down to Recovery Girl?” Both student and teacher nodded. “Don’t let me hold you up then. I gotta get to your class now– see you in English!”
He ran off, waving goodbye to the both of them. He caught sight of Shouta twisting his wedding ring, and instinctively he turned to do the same.
He was glad the little listener turned out okay, and he hoped that he could avoid situations like those in the future. Knowing Midoriya, he’d no doubt have a repeat episode sometime later, but that wasn’t an issue he wanted to focus on right now.
He dropped his hand and headed to class.