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He wakes up, and he doesn’t know who he’s supposed to be, right now.
He’s Eraserhead, the cool, calm, collected underground hero that doesn’t crack under pressure and moves in the shadows.
And he’s Aizawa-Sensei, too, still calm, and maybe too strict, but he cares about his kids. He ruffles problem child’s hair to pull him out of his own head, and he lets the kids hug him when they need it and stays up with them when they’re sick and maybe he doesn’t tell them he cares but he hopes he shows them.
He’s also Shouta - anxious, insomniac, over-thinking Shouta. And he can’t be Shouta when he’s supposed to be Eraserhead because Shouta panics and thinks about soft, pale blue hair drenched in blood, and Eraserhead is supposed to be calm. But right now it’s dark, and cramped, and he’s alone, so maybe just for a moment he can let himself be Shouta.
“Sensei?” A weak voice calls.
Oh, god. He’s not alone.
He’s not alone.
Sensei, that’s – that’s one of his students, isn’t it? Fuck, his students -
No, nope, he can’t break down now.
He’ll save that for later, in his house, with Hizashi fussing over him and Hitoshi -
Hitoshi.
Oh, Hitoshi was with him, wasn’t he? Before… Before what? What had he been doing, before he ended up here in the dark?
“Kid,” he gets out. His voice breaks, emotions threatening to overflow, and he tries again. “Hitoshi.”
“Aizawa.” Hitoshi’s voice is weak, and colored in relief. How long had he been trying to get Shouta’s attention?
“Status?” He grunts.
“U-um. I. I think my leg’s broken. It’s under something. I can’t move.” Hitoshi pauses, breathing deep. “My side kind of hurts. Not bad though.” Another pause. “You?”
“I’m fine.” Is his automatic response. He has to be fine. He’s the pro here, and the adult. This is his student, his kid, his son, he has to be okay for him.
“You were out for a long time.” Hitoshi whispers. “I called your name and y-you...you didn’t answer.”
Because he’s concussed.
He may be extremely out of it, but it’s honestly not the worst one he’s ever had. Still, it’s pretty bad, he knows. He’s barely holding together, and his shoulder and ribs ache in a way that means multiple things are broken. He shifts his legs and pain radiates up his spine. He tries to stifle the grunt of pain, but he can’t.
“Sensei?” He breathes, and that hurts, too. “Aizawa?”
“I’m injured. But it’s not bad.” He admits.
He probably shouldn’t move. The last part is most definitely a lie. Luckily, Hitoshi can’t detect lies.
“I know that’s not true,” damn it, “but you’re conscious, so that’s good.”
Shouta snorts. It was a bad decision, but this time he manages to hold back any sounds of pain. He tramps down his panic, and it’s easier now that he knows Hitoshi’s okay.
“Kid…” he starts. Then stops. What was he gonna ask?
Oh, right.
“…wa? Please answer.” Hitoshi’s voice wavers in, and he realizes there was a moment where he wasn’t there. He doesn’t know where he went.
“I-I’m here.” He gets out. “Where… Where are we?”
There’s a moment of silence. Shouta’s afraid he just blacked out and didn’t notice again, but then there’s a shaky inhale.
“You don’t remember?”
He can’t make out what emotions are in Hitoshi’s voice. A very distant part of him realizes that this whole situation is bad, and he should remember where he is, why he’s here. But whenever he tries, pain shoots through his skull.
“No.” He admits. He thinks maybe he closed his eyes. It’s so dark, he isn’t sure he ever opened them in the first place.
“Um. We – we were walking to a café.” Hitoshi tells him. “After training, remember? You wanted me to practice using my capture scarf to move faster. We spent a few hours at UA in ground Gamma. You thought I did well, so we were goin to the cat café that I really like, and… there was a villain attack.”
None of this is ringing a bell. In fact, Shouta can barely hear what he’s saying.
He’s so tired.
“Aizawa?”
He wants to go to sleep. Even the aches and pains he woke up to are fading away, the pull of unconsciousness nearly overwhelming.
“D-Dad?”
Shouta sighs, and sleeps.
“Something’s wrong.” Shouta sighs.
He’s grading papers, and currently he’s on Kaminari’s. There’s too much red on the paper, and it’s upsetting, because he knows the kid really stressed over this one, and he should be more focused on what he can do to to help him understand the material better, but he just - he can’t. Because he’s too busy thinking about the after school training he did with Shinsou today.
“Yeah, looks like it. Is that Kaminari’s?” Hizashi winces. “Maybe we should recommend he get tested for ADHD? I’ve noticed some issues in my class too.”
“Yes. I mean, we should, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” He puts his pen down and leans back. “I noticed something during training with Shinsou today. He’s not gaining muscle like I thought he’d be. He might be losing weight.”
“Huh.” Hizashi frowns. “He might not be eating enough to accommodate his increased physical activity. He’s a lanky kid, and he’s never trained before. He might not know what’s wrong.”
“Maybe.”
He knows Shinsou’s not exactly muscular. And he’s not trying to get the kid to All Might levels of ripped, but the training regimen they’re on should have given him at least a bit by now. If anything, he looks more gaunt. Shouta promises himself he’ll draft a meal plan to discuss with next time they see each other, as soon as he finished grading these papers. How did Kaminari get from Hero Law to battery voltage?
The sounds of people talking pulls him from his sleep.
“I’m glad you’re okay, kiddo.” A voice says. Shouta knows he knows that voice, knows that it makes him feel warm and safe. But he can’t quite place it. “Anyone else down there with you?”
“D-Eraserhead.” Hitoshi calls shakily.
Shouta, if he’d been in his right mind, would have picked on the stutter. Would have tried to suppress a smile at the ‘dad’ that almost came from his adopted son’s mouth. But he’s barely even conscious. He tries to open his eyes, but he’s not sure if he manages. How is he so dizzy if he’s not moving?
“Status report?” The voice sounds more panicked now. “Eraser?”
That’s him.
He should answer, right?
“I’m okay. Mostly. My leg’s broken, but I can feel it, so it’s -it’s not as bad as it could be. My side hurts, I think my ribs are bruised.” Hitoshi answers instead. “I think E-Eraserhead’s got a concussion. Um.” A pause. “In and out of consciousness, slurring speech. Confusion. Labored breathing, too. I don’t know how injured he is, he won’t tell me.”
“M’fine.” He huffs. Hitoshi doesn’t seem to understand him, or even hear him.
Did he say it out loud? He meant to, but his body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate with him.
“Y-you’re doing great, little listener.” The voice echoes around him. “Can you see anything?”
“No. There’s a little bit of light, but it’s not enough.”
“Okay. It’ll be okay, just hang on. Eraserhead, are you there?” The voice calls.
He groans.
“Shouta, babe, can you hear me?” It’s quieter, more filled with emotion this time, and Shouta’s heart aches.
Oh.
Oh, oh, he knows that voice, he loves that voice -
“Hizashi.” He gets out.
“Dad?” Hitoshi whispers. “Dad, are you awake?”
“Mmm.” He hums. It’s hurts his head, and his ears ring.
Whatever they’re on shifts, jostling them both, and Shouta can’t hear Hitoshi’s grunt of pain over his own yell, cracking and harsh to his ears. Someone else is shouting, loud and shrill. The movement only lasts a moment, but pain radiates through Shouta’s spine and shoulder in agonizing waves.
“Dad!”
“Shouta!”
“Oh, shit.” Hitoshi. “I-I can see, now. He’s - I’m gonna throw up.”
He forces his eyes open – closed, they’d been closed this whole time, how didn’t he know – and the world is grey and blurred, but there’s a smudge of purple at the corner of his eye that he knows is Hitoshi.
“Hang in there, Cementoss is stabling the area. A med team’s getting you soon.” And then, quieter, “how bad is it, kiddo?”
“He has. An open fracture. Upper left arm. And a head wound.” A shaky inhale. “There’s a pipe in his shoulder.”
Someone curses.
Shouta feels oddly detached. He’s in pain, and he knows Hitoshi’s talking about him. But it doesn’t feel real. His eyes fall closed again, despite how much he wants to keep them open.
“Shouta?”
“Mhmm?” He can’t bring himself to say anything more. His mouth won’t move.
He feels so cold.
“Talk to me, Sho. How are you feeling?”
How is he feeling? There’s apparently a pipe sticking out of his shoulder, and multiple open wounds all over his body, so he shouldn’t be feeling too great. He’s gone numb, and he can’t really feel most of his body if he doesn’t move. That’s… probably bad. But he’s not too worried about it. If Hizashi’s here, then everything will be okay eventually. Hizashi always makes everything okay.
“Tired.” He tries. What comes out is a mumbled mess.
“Okay. That’s okay.”
It’s – well, it’s not quiet. His grasp on consciousness is slipping, but he can hear the sounds of sirens filtering through, and of shouting. But Hizashi isn’t talking anymore, and neither is Hitoshi. If Shouta focuses, he can hear someone breathing, quick and harsh, close by. Is it Hitoshi? Is he okay?
Something shifts again, but this time, there’s no pain.
“We got them!” A new voice calls. It’s too loud, and Shouta flinches. He yelps when it makes fire erupt in his shoulder.
“Try not to move, Eraserhead.” Another voice, so close to his head. And then there are hands touching him, on his arms, his legs.
It hurts.
He thinks maybe he screams, but he’s not sure. All the breath leaves his lungs as sharp pains shoot through his ribs and stab at his spine. His shoulder is set ablaze, his arm is being ripped off. That had to be what’s happening, because he’s never felt this before. Not even when Shigaraki eroded part of his elbow away did it feel as horrible as this. He tries desperately to get away, to just breathe, but every little movement only makes it all so much worse. Is he being tortured? Is this the end for him?
The movement stops after what feels like an eternity. He’s laid on something flat and considerably softer than before, and there are hands on his face, holding his head still.
“…bleeding…need to…as soon as possible…”
His hearing goes in and out, accompanied by his pulse thrumming in his ears.
He opens his eyes, and sees a broken building around him.
A building collapsed.
A
Building
Oboro.
“Oboro?” He calls, desperate. “L-Loud cloud?”
He remembers- Oboro was with him, when the building came down. They were right next to each other, right? They – they were fighting a villain, and there were civilians that they had to get to safety. Did they make it? Where was the villain? He had to find Oboro and find cover, quickly, he needs –
“Shouta,” there’s that voice again. Hizashi. His best friend’s face fills his field of vision, tear tracks on his cheeks, but eyes hidden by his stupid sunglasses. His hands cup Shouta’s face, shaking. “It’s okay, everything’s gonna be okay. Calm down, try not to move. Oh my god.” His lower lip trembles. Shouta wants to cradle him in his arms, but when he tries to move, he finds he can’t.
“You’re crying.” He gets out.
“Because you’re really fucking hurt, Sho.” Hizashi looks back over his shoulder for a moment. “Both my boys are hurt.”
“Oboro – is he –”
Hizashi’s face spasms, and Shouta can’t see what expression he’s making behind his glasses. Whatever it is, it can’t be good, and it makes him anxious. “Hizashi?”
“He… He’s fine, Sho, okay? He. It’s okay. L-Loud Cloud is getting treated, just like you.”
“Okay.” Shouta breathes, finally relaxing. Hizashi wouldn’t lie to him. “Good.”
“You just rest, okay?”
Yeah.
Maybe he’ll do that.
“Do you remember what happened?” Shouta asks.
They’re sitting in the infirmary, Shinsou’s legs hanging over the edge of the bed and Shouta seated across from him. Shinsou has a bowl of rice in his lap, which he accepted after Recovery girl all but threatened his life if he didn’t eat it.
“I fainted.”
If only it had been that simple.
“You collapsed because you’re starving. You’re underweight.” Aizawa tries not to let too much of his anger show through. He hopes he looks appropriately concerned, because he is, but – he’s mad, too. He doesn’t have all the information he needs, but he knows someone is to blame for this, and it’s probably not Shinsou.
His heart had felt like it dropped to his stomach when Shinsou had collapsed. They’d been training like normal, nothing too advanced. It was just basic stuff. Fighting stances and special awareness, both that wouldn’t even really injure him. But he obviously hadn’t been paying attention, and when Shouta had called out to him, his eyes had rolled back into his head. Thankfully, Shouta caught the kid before his head hit the ground.
“Sorry.” The kid grits out. Shouta lets out a rough breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Don’t be. I’m not angry with you.”
“You look angry.” Shinsou points out. Shouta scowls. He wasn’t hiding his emotions as well as he thought, it seems.
“I’m not angry at you.” He tries to look the kid in the eyes, to show that he means it. Normally he would never do that, but this is serious.. “I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me.”
“Okay.” Shinsou frowns.
“Are your parents abusing you?” There’s a moment of shocked silence. He might have been a bit too direct, but he isn’t sure how else to ask. This isn’t something that they can talk around.“On your file your listed as a foster child. Mic had a talk with your social worker while you were being checked out, and she told him you’d been placed with three different families in the past five years.” Shinsou’s hands curl into fists. “I know how the system treats so called ‘difficult kids’, so please, be honest with me.”
He can see the gear’s turning in the kid’s head.
He takes the pause in conversation to shock him over again. There aren’t any unexplained bruises on him – all of the ones that Shouta can see most definitely came from training. But there are so many different forms of abuse that he can’t see with just a quick glance. Does Shinsou know he can trust him? Trust the teachers in general?
“They don’t.” Shinsou finally says. “They’ve never touched me.”
“Physical abuse isn’t the only kind. I know you eat at school - what about at home? Do they make sure you’ve had enough? Do you have a bed of your own, enough clothes, emotional support?” Shouta asks, as patient as possible. The kid glares at him.
“Why do you care?” He hisses. “You’re just my teacher, and I already said, I’m fine -“
“It’s my job to care about you, as a hero, as your teacher, and as your mentor.” Shouta reminds him. The fact that he has to makes his heart hurt, and he can feel his expression soften. “And if it wasn’t any of that, I still would. You’re a good kid, Shinsou. And you don’t deserve to be mistreated.”
“But I could be a villain so easily, couldn’t I?” Shinsou spits out. “I have the quirk for it.”
“No you don’t.” Shouta frowns. Is that really what he thinks of himself? “No quirk is inherently good or bad. You don’t think it would be just as easy for me to be a villain? Cancelling someone’s quirk with just a look is pretty disturbing, isn’t it.” He leans forward. “And Present Mic? He could so easily shred someone’s organs with his voice. Kaminari could fry the whole class in the blink of an eye. Midoriya could crack someone’s skull with his bare hands. One could say we‘ve all got ‘villainous quirks’ if you put it that way. But it isn’t your quirk that makes you a villain or a hero. A quirk is just a tool. It’s what you do with it that really matters.” He places a hand gently on Shinsou’s shoulder. “Do you want to hurt people?”
“No.” The kid whispers.
“Then why on earth would you be a villain?”
Shinsou stares at him, eyes wide. Tears well up and spill down his cheeks, but he doesn’t think the kid really notices.
“You can be a hero, Shinsou. I know you can.”
Shouta wakes up to Hizashi and Nemuri talking quietly by his bed.
He doesn’t remember how he got here. Or where he even is. Hizashi looks like a wreck, hair pulled back in a lose ponytail and eyes tired, but the sight of him instantly puts Shouta at ease. He groans, and two sets of eyes snap to him.
“Hey,” Hizashi hurries over time his side. His hand is warm in Shouta’s, thumb rubbing soothing circles. “How are you feeling?”
He tries to take some self-inventory, but he doesn’t get past the ache in his head before deciding he doesn’t want to feel his body right now.
“Bad.” He admits, squinting. “Where?”
“You’re in the hospital. You...you don’t remember?” Hizashi tells him. A hand appears on his husband’s shoulder, and he follows it down to the face that it’s attached to. Blue eyes behind a pair of thin wire frames meet his.
Nemuri.
“They said memory would be an issue, remember? At least he’s awake.” She says.
“Right.” Hizashi smiles at him, but there’s something wrong with it. Fake. “It’s okay, babe. Are you thirsty? In pain?”
Yes. His head aches, and his ears ring, and he can’t really feel his body all too well but he knows that parts of it hurt too. But he can’t find the energy to say any of that. His eyes slip closed again, and he feels fingers run through his hair before he loses consciousness.
Shouta wakes up to soft snores at his side. He squints his eyes open to see a head of blonde hair at his hip, Hizashi’s face slack with sleep and mouth open and drooling on white sheets. He tilts his head, and sees purple. Hitoshi’s on his other side, head tipped back as he, too, sleeps. Shouta thinks there may be something he’s forgetting. But it mustn’t be too important.
He closes his eyes.
Shouta wakes up to someone gripping his hand tightly - almost too tight. He barely manages to open his eyes enough to see his son, body trembling and head bowed.
“Please be okay, dad. I need you.” Hitoshi whispers. Shouta squeezes his hand, and Hitoshi’s head jerks up, eyes wide. “Dad!”
“Kid,” he croaks. He’s not sure what’s going on, exactly, but hearing Hitoshi call him ‘dad’ makes him feel warm. He tries to smile, but he’s tired. He hears a watery laugh, so he must have achieved something. “Hitoshi. You okay?” He mumbles. It feels like something he should ask.
“I’m fine now. Just a broken leg and bruised ribs.”
He frowns, and the action pulls at something, his skin feeling tight.
“Broken leg?”
“Oh. Right, pops said you might not remember.” Hitoshi’s eyes roam his face, stopping at something above his brows. He’d ask what it was, but his eyelids are starting to droop. “No!”
He winces, forcing his eyes open again. Hitoshi stares at him, but Shouta can’t comprehend what expression he’s making.
“Hmm?”
“I mean. Can you stay awake?” Hitoshi asks. He wants to say yes, because this is his son asking, and he sounds so scared.
“He needs sleep, kiddo.” A voice says.
Shouta sleeps.
“You’re staying with us for the foreseeable future.” Shouta informs him.
Shinsou does nothing but blink at him for several moments. He takes a breath and remembers that he should really explain things more, especially now that there’s gonna be a traumatized teenager living with him, and not just his best friend and husband that’s known him for over a decade.
“…Us?” Shinsou asks.
Shouta sighs, scratching at his chin – he shouldn’t have shaved for that interview with Shinsou’s social worker. It probably didn’t make a difference, and now his face itches.
“Hizashi – Present Mic and I. We… live together.” He admits. “We’re married.”
The kid’s eyes widen. “Oh. Um.”
“We have a few cats too. Will those be a problem?” He moves on before Shinsou can ask any questions about his marriage. The kid shakes his head.
“Uh, no. I like cats.”
Wonderful. This is already going great. He suppresses a smile as they stop in front of the school gates, waiting for their ride. Shinsou still looks a bit confused and dazed, but hopefully it’ll pass soon. He’s not sure how long it takes something like this to… settle in? Become normal? How does one recover from moving out of an abusive foster home and into his teacher’s apartment.
After a nother few moments, a car squeals to as top before them, and Shouta rolls his eyes.
Hizashi rolls down the windows and beams at them. thankfully, he’s not in his hero costume anymore, so it’s not entirely ridiculous. It takes a second for recognition to cross over Shinsou’s features, and by then Hizashi’s already yelling.
“Hey, little listener! Hop on in.”
They both watch as Shinsou gives the car a wary look before hesitantly opening the door and sliding into the backseat. Shouta gets in the front and gives his husband an unimpressed look, to which Hizashi sticks his tongue out in response.
‘Mature’, he mouths. Hizashi ignores him.
“Want some candy?”
“Zashi.” Shouta huffs.
“What? Im just trynna put the kid at ease, ya know?”
“I don’t think it’s working.” He grumbles. Something that sounds suspiciously like laughter comes from the back seat, before Shinsou covers it with a cough.
Shouta hides his smile in his scarf.
Apparently he’s woken up several times. He doesn’t remember a single one.
“You look like shit.” Shouta murmurs, running his thumb under Hizashi’s eye. He grabs Shouta’s hand and squeezes lightly.
“Yeah? You would too if you found out your husband and son got trapped in a collapsed building.” He brings Shouta’s free hand up to his lips a kisses his knuckles. “Fuck, I was so scared. I was already losing my mind when Gunhead told me he thought Hitoshi was down there, but then you too?”
“Down...” he blinks slowly. “Where?”
“I don’t know if I can stomach explaining it again.” Hizashi smiles shakily at him. “If you can still remember this conversation in a few hours, ask me again and I’ll tell ya, okay?”
“Mmm.” He hums. Hizashi continues rubbing circles into his palm and running his hand through Shouta’s hair. It’s nice. It soothes an ache he can’t quite name. He lets his eyes fall closed, the repetitive motions making him even more tired. He could almost fall asleep asleep like this.
Almost.
In the quiet, he hears Hizashi’s hitched breath. His sniffle. He opens his eyes and his husband’s looking away, eyes unfocused and shiny with tears. Shouta squeezes his hand tightly, worried. Hizashi’s not all sunshine and smiles all the time, even if his Hero persona usually is. But he doesn’t break down easy either, so the tears are concerning.
“I’m okay.” He whispers. Hizashi gives a wet laugh.
“You’re really not, babe. They had to drill a hole in your skull to relieve the pressure. I don’t think that constitutes as ‘okay’, so you?”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” He rubs his free hand over his eyes. “But, um - Hitoshi called you dad! Do you remember that?”
“No,” he admits. He really wishes he did.
He must look upset about it, because Hizashi coos at him, running a hand up his arm.
“It’s okay. He’ll say it again. He’s been saying it all week, actually.”
“Week?!” Shouta tries to sit up and hisses when pain slams through him, his back feeling like someone shoved knife between his spine and head pounding “Ah! F-Fuck.” He gasps.
“Don’t! Don’t try and move, you’re so broken right now, oh my god.” Hizashi hisses, pressing his hand to Shouta’s good shoulder. “Fuck, Sho - what the hell are you thinking? I’m having them strap you to this bed if you try that again, don’t think I won’t!”
“I couldn’t even if I wanted to.” He grits out, closing his eyes. “Jesus. A week?”
“A little over.” Hizashi’s hand is in his hair again. “You were...really bad. But now that you seem to have some stamina, so recover girl can help heal you some more.” His voice drops to a whisper. “You could barely keep your eyes open, babe. Every time I thought you were waking up, you’d pass out on me. If she tried to heal you before, you probably would have slipped into a coma.” He swallows thickly. “I was so scared.”
“I’d never leave you.” He gets out. He feels sleep start to drag him down again but fights it, forcing his eyes open enough to see his husband’s beautiful face. His eyes are red-rimmed and shiny, hair a mess, stubble growing on his normally smooth face, but he’s still a sight, okay? “No matter what happens, I’ll always make it back to you. And Hitoshi. I swear.”
“Oh...I know, Shouta.” More tears slip down his cheeks, but he smiles. “I can see you fading on me. Get some rest. I’ll wake you up when our little listener comes by tonight.”
He hums, and closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to sleep, not yet. Feels like he’s been sleeping for years. But maybe he’ll just rest his eyes for a moment?
“Dad?”
“Hmm?” Shouta grumbles.
Wait. That’s – since when is he ‘dad’? he – oh.
He opens his eyes.
The lighting is drastically different than it was just a moment ago. He might have actually fallen asleep.
Hitoshi stands just off to the side of the bed, hand hovering over Shouta’s like he’s afraid he’ll hurt him if he touches him. Now that he’s properly awake, Shouta can see the healing bruises on his son’s jaw, and the crutches leaning against the hospital bed. The hand reaching toward him shakes, for a moment, before dropping on his own.
“Hitoshi,” He breathes, “hey. Hell of a week, huh?”
Hitoshi’s eyes widen, and he lets out a surprised, trembling laugh.
“O-Oh, yeah. I guess you could say that.” He grips Shouta’s hand, face pale.
“Is he awake?” Hizashi’s voice comes from across the room, and then he’s there, expression soft and hopeful. God, he looks so tired. Guilt eats at Shouta’s heart, knowing he’s the reason why. “Hey, Sho. You know where you are?”
“Hospital.” He huffs. He almost rolls hie eyes, but the throbbing of his head reminds him that he’ll probably regret it. “You gonna tell me why, now?”
“You remember our conversation from earlier?”
He pauses, thinking back.
“Yeah.” He finally gets out. He turns his head a bit, and sees Hitoshi nibbling on his fingernails. With the sleeve falling down, he can see the gauze wrapped around the kid’s arm underneath. He watches Shouta with the most intense expression. Almost like he’s afraid he’ll disappear if he looks away. “I know that we were both hurt.”
“Yeah. You… yeah. You were really hurt, Shouta.” Hizashi’s voice cracks, and he clears his throat. “Okay, um. What’s the last thing you remember?”
If he thinks really hard, he vaguely remembers him and Hitoshi getting ready to head to the school. Hizashi had already left for the station early that morning, and he had patrol after, so it was just supposed to be him and Hitoshi for most of the day. He was kind of excited, honestly. They hadn’t had much time to train after they started the adoption process, since trying to get Hitoshi acclimated to their house and going through all the paperwork took up most of their time. He remembers that he requested use of one of the training grounds, and then …
Then what?
“We were training.” He replies. Hitoshi nods.
“You two trained for a couple hours, and then you were heading to your favorite café to get a snack.” Hizashi explains. “There was a villain attack while you were there. you were the first hero on the scene, so you called in and went to confront them. It was – someone with a tremor quirk. Or maybe just earthquakes specifically? I don’t really remember. He wasn’t the only villain, but he was supposed to cause a distraction while the rest of the group attempted to break into the bank on that street.” He stops, taking a deep breath. “And Hitoshi – um.”
“I was helping people to safety.” Hitoshi adds quietly. “Y-you told me to run, and find another pro, but, uh – there was this old couple, and – and the cats –”
The cats.
Shouta can see it unfolding before his eyes. He knows what Hitoshi’s gonna say before it leaves his mouth; the cats were still there. It was a cat café. All the civilians were evacuating the area, but he doesn’t know what the policy is for places like that. Leave them, probably, but – Hitoshi wouldn’t be able to stomach the idea of leaving all those animals behind, and he probably wasn’t going to risk someone’s life but using his quirk to make them lets the cats go. So he did it himself. He stayed behind, and Shouta…
He saw his son, still too close to danger for comfort. He got distracted, and his erasure dropped, and the villain used his quirk on the street.
The buildings were collapsing and Hitoshi was still in there.
“It’s all my fault.” Hitoshi’s voice wavers, tears spilling down his cheeks. “I was – I was so stupid.”
“This isn’t your fault.” Shouta says firmly.
“How can you say that?! If I had run like you told me to, you wouldn’t have turned around in that fight, and – and you wouldn’t have had to pull me out of the way when the ceiling caved in, and –”
“I made the choice to run in after you. Not you – me. And I would do it again, and again, because you’re my son, Hitoshi.”
“So would I, kiddo.” Hizashi reaches out and gently wipes the tears from Hitoshi’s face. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m pissed. You were both so incredibly reckless. But, yeah, if it’ll protect you? I’ll do anything.”
Hitoshi gapes at them both, trembling. And then, slowly, he slumps over, burying his face in Shouta’s blanket covered thigh. His sobs are muffled by the fabric, shoulders shaking. Shouta’s own eyes sting, and of course Hizashi’s crying. Hitoshi mumbles something, barely understood through the blanket, but Shouta hears him.
“We love you too.” He whispers. It takes some effort, but he manages to lift his hand out from under his son’s face to ruffle his purple hair. “Brat.” He adds, affectionately.
The laugh he gets in return, watery as it may be, is the best sound he’s ever heard.