Work Text:
1: Tick-tock
It’s about noon now, and Izuku is resolved to call a break once he’s got the couch unwedged from this section of Dagobah. Touya helps him, arms straining and face a bit red as he lifts the end of a fridge over the couch arms. Katsuki and Shoto watch idly from where they’re sat sorting through metal and glass bits on a tarp laid out by the stairs. Their thick rubber gloves are covered in mud and grease from the trash, but they have contented looks on their faces as they pass around pieces quietly.
Izuku is heaving one last time on the couch, engaging his back, legs and shoulders in the movement, when a shrill shriek rips through the air.
Touya slips in his grip, face planting on the couch while Izuku flinches harshly enough the furniture is practically thrown out of the pile.
Katsuki and Shoto glance up curiously to the sound as a bright pink blur zooms from the piles.
Adrenaline burning in his blood, Izuku races to meet Mei, worry on his lips, but she dodges him to beeline to the tarp.
She’s still screaming.
Then she stops, Hammy Steven Jr. looking worse for wear strapped on her back as she lifts a cracked plastic box over her head with a victorious shout.
“LOOK AT THE SHINY TICK-TOCK BABIES!!!!”
Then the 9 year old proceeds to dump a heap of metal gears, wires and cracked clock faces onto the tarp.
She whips around to stare maniacally at Izuku’s shocked figure a few paces away.
“THIS IS THE BEST CHRISTMAS EVER!”
And all Izuku could do after was half-heartedly scold her about screaming when not in sight and let her tinker away with her newest toy.
___
2: Argyle and Pinstripe
Shoto drops a bag of what looks like window curtains down from his perch. Katsuki, waiting below, easily catches it and then tosses it to the growing pile of textile goods they’ve built up. Izuku wants to catalog as many cloth supplies as they can before the big storms hit, so that they can not only be prepared but also put some other things together to donate.
Katsuki barely understood that reasoning, but he wouldn’t argue.
He was usually right about things like this.
He’s preparing for another bag as Shoto roots around the pile when a bell rings behind him. The sound barely picks up on his shit grade aids, but the general noise of the area is already null so it registers enough to make him turn. And sure enough, Hitoshi’s standing right behind him.
The small purplette’s only been a part of the Midori Clan for a few weeks now, but in that time Katsuki found himself falling irrevocably into his newest role as “big brother”. Shoto has Touya, so he doesn’t count. But Izuku explicitly told Katsuki, while the small, scrawny gold eyed boy had slept curled under the kotatsu, that he was the big brother now, and needed to take care of him.
So, when he sees him standing behind him, back straight, ratty cardboard box held to his chest, and eyes wider and brighter than Katsuki’s ever seen them…
Well…
All his attention zeroed in on the boy immediately.
“What you got there, Hitoshi?”
The boy shifts slightly on his feet, wide eyes never leaving the blondes face as he holds out the box slightly. Hurriedly, Katsuki moves to take it, seeing the tremble of strain in the boy’s scrawny arms. He eyes Hitoshi curiously, ignoring the still healing scabs around his mouth, before looking down into the box.
And resists the urge to chuck it into the ocean.
Taking a steadying breath, Katsuki looks up from the abomination in the box to speak as calmly as he could to the mute boy.
“Where did you find this?”
A scrawny finger points back into the piles of trash, gold eyes never leaving his face. The blonde heaves a sigh, looking down at the wool and cotton and argyle and pinstripes and…
“We’ll add it to the pile…” but then he stops, seeing the slight slump in the boys shoulders, the dimming of that light in his eyes, and realization, horrific realization, starts to dawn, “You want to keep these.”
Hitoshi looks up through his shaggy purple bangs, gold eyes wide and pleading and god dammit!
“Fine.” Carefully, wrangling his irritation until it’s only a flickering ember in his chest, Katsuki takes the box to the stairs, by their bags, and sets it down. “We ain’t gonna wear them until Zuku gets a day to wash them, fair?”
And Katsuki will deny until the day he dies that the spark of glee that floods the boys face, even if it’s void of a real smile, brought any type of fulfillment to him.
Because it didn’t.
He’ll fight you over it.
___
3: Phenomenon
“What are these?”
Izuku turns to look at Shoto, box of bolts forgotten briefly as the boy holds up what looks like black plate.
With a hole in the center…
Oh!
“Those are records!” completely abandoning the bolt box now, Izuku hops over to sit with the boy and look into the box. There’s at least two dozen inside, and only a handful bear any type of damage. He pulls out one record, squinting at the faded paper label at the center while Shoto looks on.
“What are records?”
“They’re an older way to store and play music.” Shoto blinks, and Izuku smiles as he runs a finger along the little ridges across the record surface, “They’re actually a pretty fascinating phenomenon that’s still circulating through the world. First, music was something you could only listen to in person, but with discovery of radio waves in the 1800s by Edison, everything changed. The phonograph, the radio, going from one song records made of glass around the 1880s all the way to million song streaming services in the early 2000s, records seem to be the only constant in all of it. At first, they were abandoned once cassette tapes and CDs appeared, but there were some throwback years around 20teens, and people started buying them again. That trend lasted well into the 2040s, but dropped off again to the Bluetooth implants. A few decades later though, around the 2100s, records came back as a commodity to “olden times” and started to rise in demand. I, personally, always wanted a record player, and always enjoyed the sound that came from quality value vinyls.”
Izuku paused, embarrassment creeping up on him as he glanced at Shoto. However, instead of the blank stare that usually accompanies his ramblings about music history, Shoto looks thoughtful. He stares into the box of records with a slight frown, one hand raised to fiddle with a long strand of red hair.
“Shochan?”
The boy looks up, eyes still thoughtful, and he takes the record back from Izuku. He stands then, the box held close to his chest. “This is mine now.” And he walks toward the stairs without another word.
Leaving a very confused Izuku behind.
___
4: Smile and Wave
Hitoshi’s carting a box of wire to the dumpsters when low toned whispers reach his ears.
It’s the second winter the purplette has spent helping cleaning this damned beach, and it hasn’t helped Hitoshi’s paranoia about the place.
That’s why he’s preparing to bolt at the first sign of trash rats when he peeks around the piles of garbage into a small cleared out area of the beach.
To see Shoto and Touya sitting on a tarp, facing each other, painting each other’s nails with tiny bottles of neon nail polish.
The bottles are crusted over with crease and sand and dried paint, and the bristles of the brushes are lumped together and dried out, but that doesn’t deter the two brothers as they put drops of… coffee(?)… into the bottles, mixes it around, then start dabbing at their nails.
Hitoshi can barely hear them, but finds he doesn’t care one bit as he slowly back away from the scene, only turning away once he’s back around the corner, and resolves to wipe the whole scene from his mind before he gets to the stairs.
Kami, is his family weird.
___
5: Ming and… Ming?
“Hey look. Ming.”
Touya blinks, looking over the edge of the scrap heap he’s currently rooting in over at his partner. Izuku is kneeling by what looks like a tunnel in the trash, and holding a hatbox filled with porcelain.
The greenette turned, eyes wide and face bright, and held up a blue and white cup. It had a large chip on its edge, and what saucers Touya could see in the box had cracks and pieces missing, but… they still functioned so why not?
“What else is in there?” Shoto shuffled over, eyes wide and curious as Izuku dove back into the tunnel. Touya appreciated the perfect view of that ass until he backed back out with another box.
He opened it up…
… and just stared.
Shoto, ever the good oblivious child, reached in and took out what was inside.
A plastic teacup with a half melted tiger face on the side.
And without missing a beat, held it out to Touya with a gleam in his eye.
“Look, Ming.”
Katsuki’s cackling could be heard for miles.
___
6: Burn it
There’s a whimper behind Himiko, and she spins around to where Hitoshi’s working on his own pile.
“You okay, Oshi?” the little tyke looks up, honey eyes wide and watery and Himiko feels something nasty flare in her chest as she rushes to his side. What dare scare her little cousin like this…?
Oh…
Oh hell no…
“Taaaaaaaannnnnniiiiiiiii??????????”
Oh hell to the fuck no is she dealing with this shit alone.
“Mi-chan?” Himiko wraps careful arms around Hitoshi’s torso and drags him away from the cursed box just as Izuku rounds the corner, worry creasing his brow, “What’s wrong?”
Mutely, Himiko points to the box, and Izuku makes his way over. Cautiously.
He looks in.
And goes so very still.
“What’s wrong, Toko?” Himiko whips around to find Touya walking into their area, Katsuki, Shoto, and Mei close to his heels. Still keeping a solid grip around a trembling Hitoshi, Himiko points again at the box.
Izuku hasn’t moved.
Worriedly, Touya steps up to him, “Izu?”
The greenette looks at Touya, eyes wide, and says in the most deadpanned voice, “Burn it, Touya.”
A few minutes later, the family is clustered together as they watch the box of dirty doll heads, just their heads, burn down to cinders.
No one speaks about that day again.
___
7: VHS
Touya heaves one last time, and the plastic box finally relents to his work. He did end up on his ass, but it’s worth it to hear the giggles from Hitoshi to his left as Katsuki scoffs from where he’s holding up the gate rack that was pinning the box.
Without the support of the box, the grate fell and the rest of the trash seemed to unlock. Now, it’ll be smooth sailing until the next cornerstone presents itself.
The jingle of brass bells reaches Touya’s ears, and he pauses as Hitoshi leans over to look into the box. He blinks slightly, then looks over at Touya with expectant eyes.
“What?” Touya straightens and leans over to peer into the box. And blinks as well. “Huh, don’t see these every day.”
“What?” Katsuki moved over to Hitoshi’s side while Touya holds up a brick sized box of plastic.
“Movie tapes.”
The boys exchange a look, then the blonde crosses his arms, “Tapes?”
Touya smirks, replacing the tape to rifle through the selection, “Believe it or not, these were the epitome of technology in the late 20th century. They died out in the early 21st, but they’re still around in antique shops and everything.” He makes a surprised noise as he pulls out another box, looking at the white tape on the side.
Katsuki hums again, crouching across from Touya but keeps his hands away from the box, “How do you play them?”
“You know that monstrosity we have in the living room?”
Katsuki wrinkles his nose, irritation flickering in his eyes, “You mean the box television Zuku found somewhere?”
“That’s the one.” The redhead holds up the tape in his hands, “These fit in that slot set into the bottom.”
Katsuki scoffs at that, but then goes silent as Hitoshi reaches over his shoulder for the tapes. His eyes are wide and curious, and the blonde rolls his eyes at Touya’s victorious smile.
It’ll be a pain to get the bitch machine working correctly, but… that’s what Mei’s for, right?
___
8: Strawberry
Izuku and Touya huff as they lug a couch across the pier, the cushions reduced to tatters and rat nests, the back shredded and pieced apart by crows. Icy winds make moving the cumbersome piece a task all its own, but Izuku’s moved worse, so he doesn’t complain. He does, however, glare at Touya when he uses his fire to stave off the chill of the winter ocean.
Oh well.
This is the last big piece left of this side of the beach, and the kids have been on a scavenger hunt for the past half hour so it was high time for a break.
There’s an explosion from the junk piles.
Then a shriek.
And Izuku is just starting to worry when two figures streak out of the pathways towards them.
“THERE IS NO WAY IN THIS FUCKING UNIVERSE I’M EVER LETTING YOU PUT THAT ON ME!”
“Come on, Su-kun. Just for a minute.”
“FUCK YOU!”
And so Izuku and Touya find themselves stuck in place, couch held over their heads, as Katsuki is chased by Shoto around and under and over their bodies.
Katsuki with a look of horror on his face.
Shoto brandishing a frilly pink dress with a strawberry pattern out like a net.
More words are shouted, and even more are argued, until the boys zoom away, Shoto hot on Katsuki’s heels, and the greenette looks over at his partner with bewilderment.
But then turquoise eyes spot something behind Izuku, and he chokes on a laugh.
Izuku turns, and bluescreens.
Hitoshi is skipping down the pier, a matching dress to Katsuki’s on his lean frame, except this one is black with strawberries instead of pink. And he’s spinning a lace umbrella on his shoulder.
What the fuck is wrong with this family?
___
9: Why…
Izuku follows the sound of screaming, not particularly worried as he recognizes Katsuki’s enraged roars but still curious to see what’s happened this time.
It also helps that it looks like it’s about to snow, so they’ll need to head home soon.
He peeks around the corner where the screaming is coming from…
Katsuki was currently tied up with old duct-tape and stripped t-shirts, sitting cross legged on the ground, screaming up at the other two.
Who are spinning around him covered in dozens of strands of fake pearls.
They have an extremely large wraparound pearl strand strung between them, making a hoop to circle the screaming blonde in the center.
And they’re singing Kagome Kagome…
Yeah they look like they’ll be fine…
___
10: Mission Impossible…?
It’s 7 in the morning, the sun barely turning the sky a silver blue on the horizon, but the boy alone on the beach has a mission.
A secret mission.
One that he’s spent the better part of two weeks of mornings trying to accomplish.
He grunts as he lifts away a stack of sheet metal, breath clouding out heavily as he lights his hand with a low yellow flame.
He scans the crevice under the metal, but seeing nothing lets the stack fall back in place.
He moves to lift up another stack of crates.
Nothing.
A pile of pallets.
Nothing.
The bed of a rusty truck.
Nothing.
The sun is starting to breach the horizon, and he’s just about to give up hope…
Then something catches his attention…
And he grins in victory.
___
Extra: Snowed In
It’s nearing midnight on Christmas Eve, and the whole Midori Clan has been snowed in.
Himiko and Mei were visiting for their regularly scheduled junkyard rummage, and had stopped by for some cider and sandwiches when the freak storm hit. News channels claimed a freak quirk accident all the way in California had caused a mass snowstorm that nearly froze the continent. So, instead, they logically pushed the rebound storm into the Pacific, thinking the ocean was large enough to hold the mass storm without repercussions.
So here they sit, twenty feet of snow filling the streets outside, and a simple phone call to the girl’s parents telling them they were more than welcome to stay over until things… well “cooled off”.
They all sit comfortably under their ratty old Kotatsu, their toes toasty in mismatched argyle and pinstriped socks, sipping from chipped teacups while watching the old TV set on a stand of cardboard boxes. The old grainy black and white videos are noiseless, the images those of old family happenings and stories lost to time.
But that’s fine, the apartment instead is filled with the sound of spinning vinyl and crooning voices. The music set off perfectly to the tick tick tick of the cuckoo clock Mei had finally finished a week ago, the many moving parts whirring and clicking and spinning along with the crackle of the fireplace.
The girls are wearing old strands of plastic pearls, and they’d wrangled Katsuki into getting his nails painted along with the others, however had no success on getting the necklaces around his shoulders.
And so, the echoes of the day still lingering in the corners of the room and the warmth of all their hearts, the grand Midori Clan lays together in peace, snow still falling in sheets outside, and lets another Christmas Eve pass on by.