Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Izuku is hiding in his favourite alley as he waits for Kacchan to give up looking for him. It’s an odd thing, to have a favourite alley, but this one has three ground exits to take advantage of, and a fire escape he can jump onto from the dumpster if he really needs to, and most importantly?

It has a cat. A scraggly little runt of a cat that’s missing an eye and yowls ferociously if he comes within a metre, but they’d come to an agreement a while back. He’ll slip the little creature some of his bento, and the cat won’t give him away to his bullies. Plus, he gets to watch the little cat do cat things like groom itself and stare ominously at one of the dark brick walls like there‘s something there that Izuku can’t see. He loves it. Best part of his day really, but to be fair that’s an extremely low bar.

But that’s whatever. The sounds of Kacchan’s searching quiet and then disappear entirely. Izuku sighs in relief and then moves so he can see his alleycat friend. “I’m really sorry,” he tells the scraggly creature that lazily blinks - winks?- at him with its one remaining eye. “But I won’t be able to bring you food anymore. I’m - I’m not going to be around. I hope you’re alright when I’m gone.”

Part of Izuku feels silly talking to a cat. The rest of him is just numb because - is this cat really the only living being that he wants to say goodbye to after thirteen years of living?

Yes, yes it is. Izuku has left a note for his mother before leaving for school, and by the time she staggers into their apartment, he’ll be long gone.

So he says goodbye to the cat and wishes it trusted him enough to give it a goodbye scratch behind the ears.

With another sigh, Izuku straightens up from his crouch and then freezes. He can’t see them, but his instincts are screaming that there’s someone blocking his exit from the alley. It can’t be Kacchan, he’d be yelling, so who?

Izuku whips around and takes a step back, arms raised defensively in front of his chest.

The man standing in the alley entrance raises an unimpressed eyebrow. Izuku meekly drops his arms and stares blankly at the dark haired man.

How the hell is this his life?

“Kid, what the hell are you doing?”

Izuku blinks, wonders if he can lie and then immediately thinks better of it, opting for silence instead.

“Okay. I’ll say what I think is happening then,” the man drawls out, sounding incredibly unimpressed. “There’s a random, very much underweight kid in a creepy alley, saying goodbye to a feral cat that hasn’t let anyone that close to it in five years, like he’s about to either run away from home or kill himself.”

Izuku trembles, and can’t help the way his breathing accelerates in fear. Because the man is right, and clearly insanely good at making logical connections.

The spider-lily poking out of his backpack might have something to do with it too.

“Ah,” the man says. “It’s the latter then. A runaway would have run by now.”

Izuku shrugs listlessly.

He sees the man give him a quick once over. “Let me guess,” the man drawls. “Quirk discrimination.”

Izuku nods numbly. It’s accurate enough, and he can’t be bothered with semantics right now.

“I know something of that,” the tall man comments idly. He’s still very deliberately blocking the alley entrance so Izuku can’t bolt. Normally he’d at least try to scale the walls but his shoulder is still burning from Kacchan’s quirk. And with the length of the man’s legs, the other two exits, while viable, won’t get him very far.

“I erase other people’s quirks,” the man continues, confirming who exactly Izuku is talking to.

Izuku hums thoughtfully before saying carefully, “People don’t like that, do they.”

The man doesn’t look surprised, merely lightly amused. Izuku is clever at seeing what people didn’t want him to though. “How do you figure that?”

Izuku shrugs. “It’s logical,” he says. “People don’t like things that don’t have quirks. I don’t have a quirk so people don’t like me. It follows that people don’t like that you make them not have quirks.”

“That’s messed up,” the man says, but he sounds mildly impressed by Izuku’s reasoning. Izuku shrugs again.

“That’s just how people are.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Shrugging is quickly becoming Izuku’s preferred form of communication. “I don’t really know, Mr Eraserhead sir.”

There - more carefully concealed surprise. But no disgust. Izuku eyes the vigilante warily. He is many things he expected - blunt, with a harsh tone, and sharp as a tack. But he’s also something Izuku hadn’t expected - he’s kind, even if he’s rough around the edges.

That’s not something Izuku had predicted whenever he’d analysed the elusive vigilante. He’s known to be viciously efficient, with a higher capture rate than most limelight heroes, along with near zero incidents involving civilians getting harmed.

However, Eraserhead is also notoriously violent. While he’s never killed, many of the worse villains he’s taken down have been dumped at police stations with at least two snapped limbs. Said limbs are often broken in strategic places that even in this miracle age of quirks tend to never heal quite right.

After a long moment of silence, Izuku sighs. “Why are you here?” he asks the vigilante, who smiles sharply at him in response.

“Why not?”

“You heard me say I don’t have a quirk, right?”

It’s Eraserhead’s turn to shrug. “So?” He asks. “I often end up dealing with people that don’t have quirks.”

“Because you erase them,” Izuku retorts before he can stop himself, and he clamps his hands over his mouth fearfully, eyes wide.

Eraserhead, instead of getting angry like anyone else would, grins wolfishly. It’s a terrifying thing, and if Izuku’s not mistaken, the man has fangs. “Well, I won’t deny that.” He snaps his fingers suddenly. “C’mon, brat. I’ll buy you a meal.”

Izuku pauses for a moment and then shrugs his agreement. He’s planning on dying tonight, one way or another, but a last meal has a nice... finality to it.

And Eraserhead probably won’t kill him and leave his body to be found in an alley under mysterious circumstances. And if he does, well. Izuku’s plans already involve his death. Murder or suicide; Izuku ends up free.

So Izuku placidly follows Eraserhead, who doesn’t so much as remove his scarf as he takes them to a hall-in-the-wall ramen shop. It’s clear he’s a frequent customer by the way the old lady running it waves Eraserhead into a booth that has clear views of all entrances, not even batting an eye at the vigilante or at a teen in a singed gakuran. That’s fine - Izuku prefers being ignored.

The ramen is the best Izuku’s ever had, not that he’s had many opportunities to go out to eat with his mother. He happily slurps the noodles and sips on the broth, ignoring the vigilante beside him. But Eraserhead seems just as focused on his own food, and doesn’t try to talk beyond asking Izuku’s name.

So it’s a good last meal, Izuku decides, and sips at his green tea when he finishes the bowl in record time. Eraserhead takes a few more minutes, but from the man’s healthy and lithe build, Izuku is pretty sure he has access to more than one meal a day, so the food isn’t as urgent for him.

When Eraserhead finishes, he sets his bowl and chopsticks down, and gives Izuku a thorough once-over. “So,” he says dryly, “how were you planning on doing it?”

Izuku would flinch but with the warm food settling in his stomach and the events of his day catching up to him, he just sighs. “Jumping,” Izuku mutters. “The abandoned building downtown.” It’s also the one that All Might had left him on after the shitshow of the previous day. It can’t be said that Izuku isn’t a fan of dramatic symbolism.

“I know the one,” Eraserhead confirms. “Good choice. It’s certainly tall enough.”

Izuku really can’t tell whether the man is being sarcastic or not. So he decides to just ask. “Why?” Izuku asks tiredly. “Why did you bring me here? Why did you buy me food?”

Eraserhead tilts his head, dark eyes fixed on Izuku. “Why shouldn’t I?”

And there it is. The answer Izuku has wanted to hear for years. Right in time for his death, how poetic. He snorts derisively. “You’re the first to say that,” he mumbles to the table. “So forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

Eraserhead huffs out a harsh chuckle. “Sure,” he says. “Forgiven.” They lapse back into silence and sip their tea for a few more minutes before Eraserhead, his expression intense, very deliberately puts his cup down.

“What were you plans before suicide?” he asks and Izuku leans forward and hides his face in his arms on the table.

“I wanted to be a hero,” he admits shamefully. “But if high schools and universities don’t accept quirkless students into general courses, they certainly won’t allow one into heroics. I have no future anyway.”

Eraserhead lets out a sharp breath. “No schools at all?”

“No,” Izuku says flatly. “I went through every single admissions guideline for high schools in Japan. Not one allows quirkless students to even apply.”

“Shit,” Eraserhead hisses. “I hadn’t realised things had gotten so bad.”

“It’s just how it is.”

Neither of them have to say how it shouldn’t be.

“If,” Eraserhead starts slowly, “another option became available to you, would you still want to die?”

Izuku ponders this for a moment. “Probably,” he concludes, “but I’d postpone my plans to see what the option is first.” He knows that simply having a plan won’t stop his desire to die.

“At least you’re honest “ Eraserhead murmurs. “I can work with that.”

Izuku finally sits back up and sips at his green tea again. He knows his expression is lifeless, his mannerisms more akin to a living doll than a teenager but - it is what it is. He’s a marionette with only one string left, and Izuku will be cutting it tonight.

“Okay, I’m interrupting your evening plans,” Eraserhead says firmly and Izuku chokes on his tea. Before he can even ask an incredulous ‘why?’ the vigilante is tugging him out the door, more than enough money left on the table for their meal.

But at this point Izuku is tired, so he follows the man limply, and tries not to think about how the man’s grasp on his wrist is the first non-violent contact he’s had in years. Eraserhead’s breath hitches strangely but when Izuku looks up at him, his face is impassive.

When they reach a small park, Eraserhead lightly pushes Izuku onto a bench and then crouches in front of him. He examines Izuku carefully, before humming in approval.

“You do a lot of running.”

Izuku nods numbly.

“Any strength training?”

Izuku shakes his head.

“Flexibility?”

He does yoga every morning, it helps with the joint pain all the running causes. He’s got to get away from bullies somehow, and fighting back isn’t an option.

Eraserhead accepts that with a quiet hum and a muttered, “it’s a good start.”

He doesn’t bother asking if Izuku has any self-defence training - they both know no classes would accept him because of his quirk status.

“Family?”

“Just my mother. But she - it’s not good.”

“Last question: why do you want to be hero?”

“To save everyone who’s ever been like me,” Izuku murmurs. “Anyone that’s cried out for help and been ignored, been beaten for who they are. I want to be better than everyone who’s ever hurt me, by being kinder and - and saving myself!”

“Alright,” Eraserhead says quietly when Izuku finishes his little speech. His eyes are still so kind and betray his otherwise neutral expression. “Midoriya Izuku will die tonight.”

Izuku blinks. That wasn’t what he was expecting. Eraserhead smirks at him. “I can’t make you a hero,” the man says, “but that’s not the only way to save people.”

It takes a moment before it clicks and Izuku’s mouth drops open slightly. He’s going to be a vigilante?

Eraserhead reaches forward and gently pushes Izuku’s jaw closed. “If you can keep up.”

Izuku clenches his fists determinedly. “I can!”

“Good,” Eraserhead says firmly, a hint of pride in his voice. “First lesson: how to fake your death.”

It’s surprisingly and disturbingly easy to fake Midoriya’s death.

They make sure there’s footage of the kid walking towards the bridge, and then leave his shoes and a note at the top.

That’s all it takes.

The shoes and note are reported by a distressed and well-meaning civilian who passes by only twenty minutes later, and the police arrive. They read the note, confirm the ID registration, and declare Midoriya dead.

They don’t check nearby security cameras. They don’t bother looking on the river shores for a body. They don’t do anything at all.

Beside Shouta, where they’re watching from a nearby apartment roof, Midoriya trembles. Hesitantly, he puts a grounding hand on the kid’s shoulder.

What can he possibly say to comfort a kid who no one cares enough about to even look for?

The world is cruel, Shouta knows this. And right now, it’s breaking this kid, this child who has only ever wanted to help. It’s broken him before and he’s healed but this - Shouta prays the kid will survive this.

Because this is only the beginning.

Twelve months later, the vigilante Crossout hits the streets, a silent shadow to Eraserhead. The villains of Musutafu learn very quickly that while he’s small, he’s fast and vicious, and a clear apprentice to the well-established vigilante who has avoided capture for well over a decade.

Chapter Text

Because Izuku is still in the beginning of his second year of middle school when he fakes his death, Eraserhead, Aizawa Shouta as he introduces himself, takes it upon himself to homeschool him.

To say Izuku is amused to find that Eraserhead is a highschool teacher in his everyday life is an understatement. To the man’s disgust, Izuku laughs for a good ten minutes when that information is revealed, and only stops when Shouta dumps a placement test in front of him.

The size of the packet shuts Izuku up fast, but stray giggles still escape him every so often. Shouta seems pleased when he finishes the test quickly, and mostly accurately too!

And while Shouta is an excellent academic teacher, by far the best Izuku’s ever had, it’s ‘gym’ that he looks forward to most.

Under Shouta’s tutelage, Izuku is proficient in hand-to-hand combat in a year. He’s also learns parkour and several other ‘extra-curricular’ skills such as lock-picking, rudimentary hacking, and behavioural analysis.

It’s been the hardest, most challenging, and best year of Izuku’s life.

And if he calls Shouta ‘Dad’ in his head, than that’s only for Izuku to know.

Six months into his training, Shouta trusts Izuku to act as an extra set of eyes and ears. With strict orders to never interfere, Izuku gets his first taste of real-life experience. Musutafu is a dangerous city at night, and even though Izuku can at least hold his own against an attack, he sticks close to his mentor, but out of sight of his opponents. With the aid of a clever comms system, rumours begin to grow that Eraserhead has eyes in the back of his head with the way he dodges blows he can’t see coming. 

So even though he doesn’t help directly, by assisting Eraserhead and acting as lookout, Izuku is still helping and it’s amazing!

And funny, Izuku realises, as he watches Pro Hero Present Mic try and capture Eraserhead for the twelfth time that month. According to Shouta, the man is as persistent as he is noisy, and has been trying to bring Eraserhead in since he started.

Izuku wonders when either of them will realise that they’re flirting.

“Why do you hurt them so badly?”

It’s a good question, Shouta will admit. Fortunately, it’s one he has an answer to. “It’s logical to give them a warning they won’t forget,” he explains to Izuku, who’s been with him for months now. “When I’ve broken all their limbs, they’ll think twice about breaking the law again.”

“Huh,” the child says. “I... think I understand. But it’s just so violent.” He looks up at Shouta. “I don’t think I can do that.”

Shouta shrugs. “That’s fine by me, I’m not going to force you to beat people people up. But,” he hesitates slightly, but this is something Izuku needs to hear, “there are many pro heroes who hurt villains worse than I do. I only cripple where it’s absolutely necessary.”

“Endeavor,” Izuku murmurs. “And Death Arms too.” He shudders, then, a vicious thing that shakes his tiny frame. Shouta pulls the kid against his side, for comfort and for warmth. “That’s - that’s the kind of hero Kacchan will be.” There’s horror in the kid’s voice and Shouta holds Izuku tighter.

“Yes,” he says, because anything else would be a lie. Izuku bawls, then, and Shouta’s heart breaks for the kid. The kid who is making an awful keening noise, from deep in his chest, the kid who is sucking in air like he’s drowning. His kid.

Izuku whimpers. “It hurts.”

“I know,” Shouta whispers into curls dyed black. “I know.”

In the late autumn cold, with only a shitty safehouse roof between them and the elements, Izuku cries himself to sleep in Shouta’s arms, and it’s a display of trust that unsettles him almost viscerally. This child is perhaps the first person since - since that one boy in highschool - to so wholeheartedly accept Shouta for who he is.

It’s a rare night that Shouta is out and about without Izuku tagging along that he comes across Present Mic sitting quietly on a rooftop.

It’s neutral ground, that rooftop, which means the blonde wants to talk.

So Shouta slips onto the same roof, and sits beside his enemy? friend? and waits.

“Is he safe?” Present Mic asks, except it’s clear that it’s Yamada Hizashi asking.

“He’s safe now,” Shouta returns, and the concern for his little apprentice warms his stomach. For all his nosiness and noisiness, the blonde is a damn good hero, with his heart in the right place.

“Okay,” Mic sighs out, eyes fixed on the shadowed horizon. “I’m glad.”

Shouta hums softly, and sits there a while longer.

When he does eventually go to stand, Shouta wars briefly with himself before sighing. He makes sure his back is to the other man when he says, “You know UA has discriminatory admission policies, right?”

Shouta is off the roof before Present Mic can ask ‘how?’ That’s something the man will have to figure out for himself. And maybe if he does, maybe Izuku’s dream can still be realised.

It’s too late for Shouta, but maybe not for his child.

Three nights after Izuku’s first patrol with Shouta, the teen wakes up with a startled yelp.

It’s not... unexpected, and is partially why Shouta is still marking papers at the table in their little studio apartment, and not sleeping despite the early hour. While this nightmare would have woken Shouta regardless, he’s well aware of the dreams that can leave one still and quiet, that creep in from the shadows. Izuku has a bad habit of trying to hide those dreams.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Shouta moves to sit beside Izuku’s futon, and starts gently running his fingers through sweat-soaked curls. He’s only had Izuku for six months, but this child is his life.

Izuku whimpers, a tiny, awful little thing that stabs at Shouta’s heart. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Shouta returns quietly, fingers never stilling. “I don’t mind.”

See, the thing about having an insanely observant son is that he’s insanely observant. It means that Izuku is fully aware that Shouta has stayed up for him. And somewhere in the teen’s young mind, some neural pathways have gone astray, and convinced the kid he doesn’t deserve this kindness, this care, this love.

“I don’t mind,”Shouta repeats. “It would be illogical to not offer physical comfort, when it helps you so much.” That it also helps him to have his child in his arms goes unsaid; it’s still too early, too soon in their relationship for Izuku to believe him.

One day, Shouta hopes Izuku will be able to believe it though. But for now, he sits at his son’s side, and pets his hair, and soothes him back to sleep.  One step at a time, he reassures himself, and Izuku will be fine.

It’s been a year, a month and a day since Midoriya Izuku died. It’s been a year and a month since Aizawa Izuku slipped quietly into existence, a long lost child with a deadbeat mother who never filed a birth certificate.

The ladies at the registration office coo over Izuku’s perpetually round cheeks, his dark curls so like his father’s and poke teasingly at his freckles.

The paperwork is filed within the day, and Izuku is legally Shouta’s. The year-long paper trail (only partially forged) of Aizawa Izuku certainly helps with that. To no one’s surprise, Izuku and Shouta end up at the same ramen place for dinner that they’d had their first meal together at. The old lady is unchanged and uncaring, but the food is made with love and just enough spice to burn.

“UA has changed its entrance exam policies,” Shouta comments quietly and Izuku sighs into his ramen.

“I know,” he mumbles. “I - I want to try.”

Shouta smiles sharply. “Good kid.”

The sharpness of the smile, and the quiet atmosphere prompts Izuku to ask a question he’s been sitting on since the first time he met Eraserhead.

“The fangs?” Shouta confirms, and to Izuku’s surprise there’s a faint flush of pink on the man’s cheeks. “No, they’re not a mutation,” he admits.

Oh?

“I saved a woman with a tooth manipulation quirk,” Shouta mutters. “I was nineteen and asked her to give me fangs. I thought it would make me more intimidating.”

Izuku wheezes with laughter, and even Shouta’s lips curl up slightly, the small points of his fangs peeking through.

“Do you still have her contact?” Izuku asks as they walk home and Shouta snorts rudely.

Izuku’s enhanced canines come in very handy the very first time he gets in a scuffle as Crossout, even if Shouta does scold him for biting a man’s wrist. Too many bones that Izuku could break his teeth on,  apparently. Shouta recommends the forearm next time, and then buys him an icy pole from a convenience store to celebrate his first combat-allowed patrol.

Shouta always gives the best advice!

It’s after another long night of avoiding Present Mic that Izuku carefully says, “You could just ask him out on a date.”

Shouta chokes on his water. “What?”

Izuku smirks. “Present Mic,” he says as if it’s obvious - because it is. “You should ask him out. Stop pulling his pigtails -cockatoo crest- and all that.”

“That’s a sexist archaism and you know it,” Shouta snaps, but there’s no heat to it.

“Sure,” Izuku says lightly. “I’m not wrong though, and I note that you haven’t said I am either.”

Shouta scowls at his apprentice. “You’re a brat,” he says sternly and said brat beams brightly at him.

“Still not saying I’m wrong!”

The aggressive game of tag that Izuku is an unwilling participant in is very much worth it. It’s not often he can get Shouta embarrassed!

It ends only when Shouta manages to tackle Izuku on top of a roof not far from their apartment. He gets his hair roughly noogied but he’s also wrapped up in his dad’s arms, so it’s not really a loss.

“You know, you can just say you wanted to give me a hug.”

Even though he knows Shouta will deny it, Izuku can tell he’s blushing as he ducks his chin into his capture weapon.

“Do you want another hug or not, brat?”

“Please!”

“There’s been weird reports lately,” Izuku frowns as he double checks the zip ties on the man he’d just taken down. Shouta, keeping watch as lookout makes a hum of acknowledgment.

“Such as?”

“Someone’s trying to recruit,” Izuku mutters and joins his mentor on the nearest roof. Their comms click off at their close proximity. “Something big will be going down.”

“Probably,” Shouta confirms, standing and stretching out of his crouch. “Nice takedown, but watch your openings. If he’d had any more experience, you’d have a broken rib right now.”

Izuku nods tiredly. “Can we go home?”

Shouta glances at the sky and nods. “Sure. And these sorts of things tend to happen every few years. Someone tries to take over the underworld and cause trouble. It’ll either blow over, or the heroes will finally notice.”

Izuku nods thoughtfully. “Like the Sky Egg incident?”

“That’s certainly one example.” Shouta jumps to the next roof and Izuku follows, his shorter stature forcing him into a roll to land. “I’ll tell you more about it at home.”

Sounds good!

Oh, Shouta does not get along with Stain. He understands his ideals but honestly the man is so short sighted. “It’s stupid to kill people before they have the chance to change.”

“You’re sentimental, Eraserhead,” Stain drawls out in response, lazily sheathing his katana. “That apprentice of yours has made you soft. Weak.”

“I’m logical,” Shouta hisses back. “Dead people can’t make the world a better place. And I’ve never killed, even before Crossout.” In his words, Shouta laces a clear threat - do not mention his apprentice again, or this night will become even more unpleasant for both of them.

Stain seems unbothered by the threat, and reclines easily against the alley wall, uncaring of the grime of lower Musutafu. “Heroes shouldn’t be paid,” he repeats for the nth time. “They should save people for the act itself.”

Shouta rolls his eyes. “It’s a job, not a higher calling,” he retorts, “just like any other first responder. You’re putting heroes on a pedestal they don’t deserve.”

Stain hisses through his teeth in clear disagreement. Gods, Shouta would love to take this asshole down right now, but that would be a battle he’s not prepared for right now. No, instead he’s meeting Crossout three blocks down the road to get the jump on a rather nasty little drug gang that’s just one of the many trying to move in on old Yakuza territory.

Fools, the lot of them, and being taken down by vigilantes is the merciful option. The Shie Hassaikai will be much less forgiving if this gang gets any more traction. The yakuza may be more in the shadows than they’ve ever been, but that doesn’t mean they’re gone.

And from Shouta’s connections, he knows the Yakuza are planning their reprisal for two days time. So he and Crossout have to take the gang down tonight, before the streets run red with blood. 

“Stay out of my way,” Stain growls as Shouta moves to leave the alley. “You’re not exempt from my purge.”

Shouta huffs a laugh under his breath. Stain is only as good as his blitz attacks, and Bloodcurdle does nothing to paralyse quirks. Without his quirk, Stain is nothing but a talented swordsman with too much confidence in his abilities.

Even Izuku, with only eighteen months of training, could take the man out easily, were they to fight quirkless. So no, Shouta’s not threatened by Stain, but damn if the man isn’t an elusive pain in the ass.

“I tried to be a hero,” Shouta says to Izuku suddenly. “But it’s just not an option for people like us.”

Izuku is almost scared to ask. Almost. “Why?”

“Why is it not an option?” Shouta scoffs. “I took the hero exam for UA too - robots, as you just experienced. Huge fucking robots that require a destructive quirk to get through. So I went into Gen Ed, and thought that if I did well enough in the Sports Festival, they’d have to transfer me. I won,” Shouta says viciously. “I won and they still told me I wasn’t good enough. Never mind that I beat the crap out of forty hero students, my quirk was weak and villainous.” He sighs then. “So I stopped trying to be a hero. I finished out UA with the best marks I could, went and got my university degree and picked up a vigilante career on the side. You know the rest.”

Izuku is silent for a long time then. “Fuck,” he mutters eventually. “I never stood a chance, then. If you have a quirk and they still said no then-”

“Yeah,” Shouta says quietly. “You could’ve topped the scoreboard for the exam and they still wouldn’t take you.” And Izuku had done far better than Shouta had managed, getting 11 villain points and 15 rescue ones. At least he could attend UA’s General Education course, the only one in Japan that would accept quirkless students as of a month ago.

Shouta is pleased that Present Mic had figured it out so quickly and actually made changes.

“What do I do now?” Izuku whispers into the darkness, and Shouta wraps an arm around his waist, pulls him against the man’s side.

He presses a soft kiss against his son’s messy hair. “Whatever you want,” Shouta tells him. “I’ll be there with you.”

Chapter Text

A month after the entrance exams, and a month before Izuku is due to start in the General Education course at UA, everything falls to shit.

Eraserhead has finally bitten off more than he can chew, even with the assistance of his apprentice, Crossout.

“What do we do?” Izuku asks Shouta frantically, as they hide in a dumpster in a bad part of town.

“We have to go to Nedzu,” Shouta grits out. He’s holding his side where a knife has scraped his ribs. A painful but not deadly injury, thankfully.

“Fuck,” Izuku swears softly and Shouta snorts at his son. Fuck indeed. As loathe as he is to admit it, the elusive creature is their best bet at surviving this, while not ending up in prison... or worse, in the hands of the Commission.

Kurogiri, in quirk suppressing cuffs, looks blankly at the side of the dumpster. Shouta wishes he didn’t recognise those blue eyes.

To be fair, he hadn’t expected to stumble on a sleeping Kurogiri in the League of Villains’ bar that he and Izuku had broken into for information. Shouta had known of the warp quirk user, of course, since reports had started popping up, but in sleep the shadows had receded and revealed a devastatingly familiar face.

Shirakumo Oboro is meant to be dead.

But he’s not, and Shouta had impulsively, illogically, taken him, right from under the League’s noses. And when Izuku had joined them at the rendezvous point, he realised just how big a mistake that had been.

All For One, the monster of the underworld. That was who ran the League of Villains, and who would now be hunting down Eraserhead and Crossout.

That was who Shouta sent his child to spy on.

Izuku doesn’t quite understand, Shouta knows, because he’s still too young to have to worry about such boogeymen. That will be changing very soon, Shouta mourns, but he won’t have his son go into this fight without all the information.

Which Shouta will give him once they get to Nedzu.

There is no doubt in his mind that there will be a fight. All For One has never gone quietly. His blowout with All Might six years ago - the Underground’s worst-kept secret - is proof enough of that.

“Crossout, call in backup,” Shouta orders firmly and Izuku obeys instantly, sending off a rapid-fire text. “We’ll meet at Location 5A.”

“What the fuck?” Mic hisses when he reaches the department store that Shouta, Izuku and their... companion, are hiding in. Izuku gives the man a cheery wave, and Mic gentles enough to shoot the kid a smile.

Then, bright eyes are fixed squarely on Shouta again. That’s fair - it’s not like he’s ever called for backup before, especially not from a pro. But - Shouta is only one man, and he alone cannot protect himself, his son, and Shirakumo. For the first time, his logic has lead him to seek aid from the very person trying to hunt him down.

“I found your friend,” Shouta says bluntly, and his eyes flick to Shirakumo. Mic looks haunted and wan when he realises just who’s standing eerily quietly behind a rack of jackets. “Unfortunately, we’re now being hunted. We need to see Nedzu.”

“Fuck,” Mic swears again, and then determination starts burning in his eyes. “Okay, I’ll get you there safe. All of you.”

Of that, Shouta has no doubt.

“Welcome to UA!” Nedzu cheers brightly as Izuku and Shouta slink into his office, Kurogiri still blankly trailing behind them, and Present Mic bringing up the rear.

“It’s good to see you again, Aizawa!” Nedzu chirps, and his small dark eyes are keen and bright as he bares his teeth in a smile.

Shouta stiffens at the use of his name, and Izuku immediately buries himself against his dad’s side. His dad is a pillar of stone against him, he’s so tense.

“And it’s nice to meet you, Izuku,” Nedzu adds more kindly, deliberately softening his smile. For all his intimidating use of their names, the creature seems... friendly.

Shouta just sighs. “Of course you knew,” he mutters disdainfully. “Will you help us or not?”

Nedzu grins, a sharp little thing with teeth that has Izuku instinctively baring his own fangs at the threat. Shouta flicks him on the temple and Izuku subsides with a pout. “We’re in polite company,” Shouta chides, “Mic excluded, of course.”

The blonde pro hero squawks in protest as Izuku snickers.

“All is well,” Nedzu says with a titter. “And of course I’ll help - I’d never turn down a former student for no good reason! I will, however, require a favour.”

“I get to be in the hero course,” Izuku says, dumbfounded, and Present Mic, no, Yamada Hizashi, grins at him. They’re sitting in a waiting room in the UA infirmary as Recovery Girl checks over Kurogiri and assesses him. She’s already healed Shouta, even though he accepted the assistance only after Izuku pulled out the big guns - his puppy dog eyes.

“Of course!” he says cheerfully. “You’re more than qualified, but that exam is so biased! The way you dragged that other examinee out of the way of the zero pointer was amazing!”

Izuku breathes heavily through his nose, in a way he’s picked up from Shouta. “At least I could do the exam,” he admits. “Since UA changed its policies.”

“Mm,” Yamada says thoughtfully. “I understand now why Eraser brought them up.”

Wait, what?

Izuku snaps his eyes up to the beaming and all-too-smug hero. “Really?” he demands.

“Yeah, really,” Yamada says teasingly. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Izuku ignores him in favour of diving on top of his napping father, who wakes with a wheeze. “You’re heavy now, remember,” Shouta hisses, but Izuku is making a good attempt at strangling him in joy and ignores him.

“Thank you,” he whispers into his dad’s neck. “You made it so I could apply to UA.”

Shouta’s arms wrap around Izuku at last. “You deserve every chance, ‘Zuku.”

Izuku just clings more tightly to his father. There’s nothing he can say to that without crying.

Except maybe, “I can’t believe Nedzu is making you teach Ethics and Law.”

Shouta huffs out a laugh. “He thinks it’s ironic.”

“That’s because it is,” Izuku retorts. “A vigilante teaching law? It’s hilarious!”

Before their verbal sparring can devolve into a wrestling match as they’re wont to, Yamada makes his presence known again as he settles down cross-legged beside them.

“I can’t believe that Eraserhead is finally going legit,” he taunts, and Izuku smirks into Shouta’s neck as his dad flips the blonde off. “Ingenium is going to be so jealous!”

“Ingenium can fuck off,” Shouta says bluntly and Izuku giggles outright at that. The speed hero had also been chasing Eraserhead for quite a while now, but much less successfully than Present Mic. He’s always to kind to Izuku whenever he comes across Crossout though, even when he’s trying to arrest him.

And really, this is more than Izuku could ever have hoped for. Not only does he get to train to become a hero, but his dad does too! And all because Nedzu was so pleased they’d rescued a former student of UA! And apparently wanted to spite the hero commission, but whatever.

The important thing is, after three years of probation, Crossout and Eraserhead will be Pros!

The verdict on Kurogiri is this: quirk suppression cuffs are the only way for the man to live without falling back under All For One’s brainwashing. The clunky and only somewhat illegal suppression cuffs are switched out for a pretty little silver one that looks like two chunky bangles that tinkle prettily against each other.

Shirakumo Oboro will live, but he can never again use his quirk.

Shirakumo, with a tired laugh, and eyes that are no longer dull, but sparkle instead, waves it off. “After all,” he says with a wink at Izuku, “quirkless ain’t so bad.”

Present Mic ends up in charge of two ex-vigilantes and a reformed unwilling villain. To Shouta’s mild disgust and sheer relief, they all get to live together in a little two storey house on-campus because Izuku and Shouta are ‘flight risks’, apparently. Izuku takes great offence to that, while Shouta quietly thinks it might be good for him and his son to have to interact with other people on a daily basis.

Maybe, Izuku will stop biting people.  Shouta doubts it, but a man can dream. Seriously, it only took taking Izuku out of school and giving him some self confidence, and now the brat bites everyone.

Maybe Shouta shouldn’t have let him get fangs...

Actually no, that was an excellent idea, Shouta thinks gleefully as his son snaps said fangs warningly at Mic. The blonde screeches in dismay and snatches his fingers back from Izuku’s hair.

Shouta shoots a vicious smirk at the blonde. The privilege of giving Izuku hair ruffles is earned.

The first day of school is a certifiable mess.

Izuku doesn’t bite anyone, which is a plus, but unfortunately his new identity is thrown out the window when he gets recognised by a sullen blonde with an explosion quirk. Shouta, strictly speaking, doesn’t have to be in homeroom but he likes to annoy Hizashi, and there’s no better way to do so than by making snarky comments about his teaching style. So he’d been introduced to the class as ‘Mr Eraser’ and has been lurking there since.

Which is why he gets a front row view to the blonde - Bakugou Katsuki - staring at his son while Izuku looks vaguely uncomfortable.

“Deku?” Bakugou asks, and the teen’s voice cracks horribly. “You’re - you’re alive?”

Izuku sighs and rolls his eyes - a bad habit he’s picked up from Shouta. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes. And my name is Aizawa now; use it.” The threat layered in Izuku’s words is not subtle and Hizashi sighs in exasperation.

“Are you going to do anything?” Hizashi tiredly asks Shouta who just raises an impassive eyebrow.

“Not my class until second period,” he says smugly and Hizashi visibly dies a little.

Meanwhile, the rest of 1-A has been alternating staring at Bakugou and Izuku with wide eyes. The blonde is actually crying at this point, while Izuku has laid his head down to take a brief power nap.

“Deku - Mido- Aizawa, what happened to you?” Bakugou chokes out. “I went to your funeral.”

There are several shocked gasps from the room. Shouta watches Hizashi take in the situation and then very obviously decide to let it play out. God knows Izuku has been getting antsy lately, being unable to patrol. It’ll be good for him to let off some steam.

“Huh,” Izuku says thoughtfully, and he sits up straight to look Bakugou dead in the eye. “I didn’t know I had one. Who went?”

Bakugou chokes briefly but rallies well. “Aunty Inko, me and my parents.”

“Oh,” Izuku says flatly. “That’s it?”

An awful silence follows. Then Bakugou hesitantly mutters that Izuku’s mother has moved to the USA to join his father. Whatever, Izuku doesn’t particularly care about them. “How are Aunty Mitsuki and Uncle Masaru?”

“They’re fine,” Bakugou says, and he seems to be clutching desperately to this seeming olive branch. But Shouta has taught Izuku well in the art of laying traps.

“That’s nice,” Izuku says. “Did you tell them what you said to me that day?”

Shouta freezes immediately and regrets ever letting this conversation get this far. This must be Kacchan. But it’s too late, as Izuku smiles, bares his fangs and says, “Did you tell them it was your fault I killed myself?”

Bakugou breaks, awful sobs wracking his body and Shouta can’t even feel an ounce of sympathy for him. His priority, as always, is Izuku who simply lays his head back on his arms and closes his eyes.

Hizashi is deathly still but only for a moment, and immediately leaves Shouta in charge of homeroom as he takes Izuku and Bakugou to a separate room. The remaining kids stare up at him, clearly intimidated by the fact he hasn’t given them a name, merely introduced himself as Eraser. As if he’s going to give these brats his civilian name when there’s every chance Hizashi will expel them before the end of the first week. Despite his bubbly personality, the man has a hardass reputation as a teacher that Shouta reluctantly admires.

It’s annoying but understandable that he’s being left out of the loop with Bakugou and his son, but Shouta is self-aware enough to know that he’d be unlikely to be impartial when dealing with them, and that’s... as illogical as it is unavoidable.

Izuku’s dead eyes from that night still haunt Shouta’s dreams.

So yeah, it’s an eventful first day. And Izuku is clearly taking very much after Shouta, because he gleefully recounts the whole mess to both him and Oboro that afternoon while Hizashi bangs his head against a wall. Apparently, Izuku didn’t want any repercussions for the blonde, because “watching me succeed as a quirkless hero even after what he did to me is punishment enough.”

“Not to mention he thought you were dead for nearly two years and it was his fault,” Hizashi tacks on dryly, finally joining the conversation like an adult. Oboro, who’s skillfully whipping up dinner for the four of them laughs brightly.

He finds the strangest things funny these days, Shouta muses, even as he hides his own grin. He’s very proud of his son.

“He’ll be getting plenty of therapy,” Hizashi sighs once Oboro subsides. He pokes Izuku’s cheek gently. “Are you sure you’re alright with him staying in 1-A? It’s not too late for him to change classes.”

Izuku shakes his head, messy curls falling in front of his eyes. His green roots are growing out and Shouta clicks his tongue at the sight. “Are you wanting to redye your hair?”

Izuku stills and looks thoughtful before nodding decisively. “Yes, and actually... do you think I could grow it long like yours?”

Adorably, his cheeks turn pink and Shouta’s heart feels like a bear trap just clamped around it. “Of course,” he says. “Of course you can.”

He then pointedly ignores Oboro and Hizashi cooing together like pigeons at the interaction. Instead, Shouta runs his fingers through messy curls and Izuku leans gently into the pressure. “So,” Shouta says dryly. “How’d it feel to knock him down a peg?”

And Izuku beams.

Chapter Text

Izuku’s record of ‘no biting’ days is reset to zero on the second day of school.

The person he bit?

Fucking All Might.

Shouta’s never been prouder, even when Hizashi, through choked back laughter, has to ‘scold’ an unrepentant Izuku.

Recovery Girl is highly displeased, because Izuku had actually managed to sever a rather important nerve before Kirishima pulled him off the number one pro. It’s fixable, of course, Izuku never really got into the whole ‘permanently maim’ side of things, but it’s inconvenient and painful.

“But Hizashi,” Izuku had defended himself, blood still smeared around his mouth as they trekked back to their on-campus house, “he wanted us to do battle trials for our first class! And he tried to ruffle my hair.” The last bit is tacked on childishly, but Shouta thinks it’s a valid reason. “And Shouta would be a way better Heroics teacher anyway. He’d actually make sure we’re safe.”

Aww.

Hizashi valiantly stuffs down more laughter, even though all of them in the room know the scolding is a farce. Protocol is protocol, after all.

Oboro, once again lurking in the kitchen, but this time making cookies, pointedly erases the ‘3’ from the ‘days since Izuku bit someone’ sign that hangs on the fridge.

It had been a gift from Nedzu, and Izuku is very fond of it. Mainly because it’s less of a record for him, and more for everyone else - mainly Hizashi - managing to keep Izuku from biting people.

“Nice aim,” Shouta says to Izuku once Hizashi finally gets through his little speech about not biting teachers - only slightly self-serving, as he’s had a few warning nips himself. “Are your teeth alright?”

Izuku grins widely, clearly showing off pristine teeth.

“Good.” And then Shouta gently ruffles his son’s hair. “Now, want to explain why you really bit him?”

Needless to say, Hizashi is less than impressed when he has to drag an unrepentant Oboro off of All Might the very next day.

Shouta, who had casually mentioned where All Might would be that morning, watches on with a gleeful smile. He notices several students back away from his sharp teeth, and wonders when any of them will put two and two together. Shouta and Izuku have a bet going on who the first person to realise they’re father and son will be, and he intends to win.

“And that’s what someone can do without a quirk,” Oboro hisses at a shaking, bloodied All Might. Hizashi groans and lightly swats at pale blue hair in annoyance.

“Why did I sign up for this?” the man asks mournfully, and Shouta’s grin widens. He’s admittedly pretty impressed by Oboro’s use of his quirk suppression cuffs as improvised bludgeoning weapons.

He truly does embody the plus ultra spirit.

To Shouta’s delight, Izuku takes after him and absolutely dominates the Sports Festival. The first two rounds are a breeze considering his son’s clever mind.

And the one on one rounds?

Shouta watches proudly as Izuku, without hesitation, beats every opponent soundly. It’s a bad match up for Shinsou, who Shouta notes has a fascinating little mental quirk, but Izuku has a point to make.

And make it he does. Especially when Izuku unapologetically takes advantage of Todoroki holding back and tosses him out of bounds in disgust, unbothered by the ice.

Hizashi’s commentary is only mostly annoying, even if he insists on Shouta sitting with him in the viewing box. He pointedly refuses to offer any opinions, but does laugh loudly when students make idiotic mistakes like tripping or underestimating Uraraka.

And, with no small amount of glee, Shouta watches the feisty girl absolutely thrash Bakugou, using techniques she’d clearly been working on with Izuku for the last few weeks. He’s fairly certain that the two of them had made multiple battle plans for any opponent they might end up facing, in an almost unprecedented show of planning for the sports festival.

Which reminds Shouta, he needs to check in with Izuku about her home life - some mornings the poor girl comes in with bags under her eyes to rival his own. If she needs help, Shouta is more than happy to offer it. And not only because she’s the sole student in Class 1-A to not be wary of Izuku. Never mind the irrationality of quirk discrimination - that Hizashi shut down quick - several students had been put off by his little showdowns on the first few days of school with Bakugou and All Might respectively.

Not so for the gravity quirked girl, though. Uraraka had approached Izuku on the third day of school and immediately asked where he got his dental work done.

Hizashi’s look of utter bewilderment when the girl turned up to school the next week with newly pointed teeth was priceless.

When it comes to the final match, a vicious showdown between Uraraka and Izuku, the crowd goes wild. Because the girl, claiming quirk exhaustion (which Shouta figures is true enough) elects to fight Izuku quirkless.

What follows is a dirty wrestling match, that ends with Izuku pinning Uraraka successfully, but only after several minutes of the girl using every dirty trick she can think of. Izuku is also clearly exhausted, judging from the way his forms are sloppy, but Shouta lets it slide - it’s been a long day. With muck smeared over both of their faces and uniforms, Midnight calls the match for Izuku with a resigned laugh.

Yes, Shouta is very proud of his son.

During the awards ceremony, Oboro calls and Shouta puts it on speaker so Hizashi also has to suffer through the man sobbing in pride. While still absolutely petrified of leaving the safety of their house (the attack on All Might being the only exception), the now-free man is more than happy to take care of the three of them that share the household.

It’s very sweet, but also a little nauseating to hear Oboro cooing over Izuku, but Shouta gets it. If he was a cooing man, he’d be bawling too. “And bring that Uraraka over for dinner!” Oboro insists at the end of the call. “She needs to eat more, look at her! She’s tiny!”

The asshole then hangs up before Shouta can protest and he sighs in resignation. It’s so rare for Oboro to ask for something that he and Hizashi will ensure that the girl joins them for dinner. Ah well, Izuku will be pleased at least.

Izuku is thrilled when Shouta tells him to drag Ochako to dinner, actually!

His best (and only) friend deserves the world! And Oboro’s excellent cooking is a great start to that!

“C’mon, Ochako!” Izuku cheers, tugging her away from the changing rooms. Unsurprisingly, they’re mostly being left alone in favour of Class 1-A congratulating Tokoyami for placing third - their classmates think Izuku and Ochako are a bit... unhinged and so mostly avoid them.

Their loss, honestly.

Izuku and Ochako are delightful.

A flash of purple catches Izuku’s eye and he rapidly changes course to plant himself firmly in Shinsou’s path.

“Uh,” the other boy says, staring blankly at Izuku and Ochako, who are still holding hands because they’re best friends and share a love language of touch.

“Your quirk is so cool!” Izuku bursts out, and Shinsou flushes brightly. “But you really need to work on your combat skills - I teach Ochako after school some days, do you want to join?”

Shinsou looks like he got hit by a truck. “Uh,” he says, and purple eyes flick over Izuku’s shoulder to where Ochako is delightedly leaning her head on him. “Sure?”

Good enough, Izuku thinks happily, and shoves a business card at the tired looking teen. “Text me,” he says sternly. “We’ll get you into the hero course in no time!”

“Bye!” Ochako calls excitedly as Izuku drags her away. Izuku grins at his best friend. He’s so glad she decided to like him!

“Aww, Izu,” Ochako simpers teasingly, “you’re the best!”

Absolutely not, how can that be true when Ochako is the best? Simply illogical!

“What do you mean you live on your own?” Oboro demands, blue eyes flashing. “We have a spare room, it’s yours now!”

“Huh?” Ochako asks, confusion evident on her face.

Shouta is of a similar opinion - what? What kind of parent makes their teen child live alone in a foreign city with no support?

Shouta has stolen a child before, and he’ll do it again -

“Dibs,” Oboro says and Shouta scowls ferociously.

“You can’t call dibs on a child,” Shouta hisses, fully ignoring that he was about to do the same thing.

“Um,” Uraraka says hesitantly, brown eyes huge, “do I get a choice?”

“Nope,” Izuku interrupts before either Oboro or Shouta can form an answer. “But it’s not so bad!”

Uraraka stares at Shouta’s son blankly. “You’re adopted?”

“Yep!”

“Huh,” she says thoughtfully. Then she pins both Oboro and Shouta with a terrifying glare. “You may share custody with my parents,” she informs them. “We’re poor, not dysfunctional.”

Shouta raises an eyebrow, but appreciates the bluntness. “That’s fine,” he says. “We’ll help you move in tomorrow. You can borrow ‘Zuku’s clothes for the night, you’re about the same size.”

Izuku nods energetically and tugs Uraraka - should they be calling her Ochako now? - to show her the rest of her new home. Shouta’s actually pretty impressed by how well she’s taking this whole situation - finding out her best friend and mysterious ethics and law teacher are ex-vigilantes, and father and son.

Hizashi, who’s been sitting at the end of the table in resignation plants his face on the table. “Okay,” he says, “so I have two kids now. This is fine.”

Oboro pats him gently on the shoulder. “Chin up, ‘Zashi! You always wanted kids!”

“I thought I’d do the whole partner and marriage thing first,” Hizashi says mournfully.

Oboro, clearly deficient of any sympathy as a result of his time as a slave to All For One, simply says, “so ask Shouta out and stop dancing around it!”

Shouta snickers at the baffled look on Hizashi’s face before freezing -

Wait,  what ?

“Mr Yamada is dating Mr Eraser?” Ochako asks curiously and Izuku grins.

“Finally!” he exclaims, “I’ve been waiting for them to figure it out for years.”

“Ah,” Ochako says wisely, “friends to lovers.”

“Even better,” Izuku corrects, “enemies to friends to lovers!”

“You know we can all hear you?” Oboro calls suddenly from the kitchen and Izuku cackles. Yeah, that’s why they’re stage whispering!

“Brats!” Shouta calls sharply from the dining table but Izuku simply cackles louder and drags Ochako back upstairs.

“So,” Hizashi says dryly, “when do you think those two will figure themselves out?”

Shouta sighs. “If they’re anything like us, never, and a friend is going to have to point it out.”

Oboro chuckles from the kitchen. “You’re welcome!” he sings, clattering around with plates and cutlery.

Gods, if someone had told sixteen year old Shouta that his only friend Shirakumo Oboro would make such an excellent househusband well. He probably would have believed it, but still. The bentos Oboro had made for both of them to eat as they hid away from the rest of the school during lunch still live fondly in Shouta’s memories.

“Friday is date night,” Shouta says suddenly and decisively. Hizashi looks startled for a moment before grinning widely.

“That sounds great, Shouta,” the blonde says surprisingly gently. “Oboro can babysit.”

“Oh, I’m warning you now that I will be spoiling the hell out of the kids!” Oboro chimes in, and he finally swings back to sit at the table with a toothy grin. “It’ll be nice for all of us, I think, if we also have family time. Sunday afternoons?”

Yeah, Sunday afternoons sound excellent.

Chapter Text

Izuku scowls up at Stain who looks baffled to see him in a random alley in Hosu. That’s fair - last the villain knew, Crossout and Eraserhead were damn near exclusive to Musutafu.

“Great,” Stain mutters under his breath, but his clever eyes are darting quickly around the alley, presumably looking for Eraserhead. A wise decision, honestly, as Izuku knows Shouta has warned Stain to leave him be or face the consequences more than once.

“Leave,” Izuku says sternly, voice modulator flicked on so it comes out with a haunting mechanical grate. “You’re not welcome here.”

He blatantly ignores Iida yelling for Izuku to abandon him to certain death. As if. Not when there’s Native to think of as well, paralysed on the other side of the alley, a large pool of blood seeping from under his body.

Stain hesitates and that’s all the opening Izuku needs - he can’t second-guess himself, and risk being caught in Bloodcurdle. He darts forward and slashes his knife across the man’s throat in a frighteningly technical move - it’s deep enough to bleed, but not to kill.

So long as Stain doesn’t strain his body, he’ll survive the night.

It’s meant to be a last-ditch technique, one that Shouta had taught Izuku to use only in life or death situations. Because if the recipient of such a wound fights back, they’ll almost certainly die.

Izuku thinks Shouta will accept this as reasonable circumstances, even as he prays for Stain to show sense. And for once, luck is on Izuku’s side - Stain slinks off into the shadows, and he can finally check on Native and Iida. He hit his panic button as soon as he’d entered the alley, so Shouta will be there soon and then, only then, will Izuku allow himself to relax.

He could’ve died right then.

He could’ve killed someone right then.

Bandaging Native’s heavily bleeding stomach doesn’t stop the intrusive thoughts, but it does keep Izuku’s hands busy.

But at least his classmate is safe, along with that pro hero. Although Izuku’s schooling may be in jeopardy right now, because he may have abandoned Present Mic to follow up on his hunch. Which means he’s breached one of the very clear rules of his probation.

Not that he regrets doing so, not with Iida alive and breathing, but it’ll be damn inconvenient. Izuku still has three years of probation left after all, and as such he’s not meant to patrol alone, skill and capability of doing so notwithstanding. So there’ll probably be some sort of repercussions, and Hizashi is going to give Izuku that look, the disappointed one that makes him shrivel up inside and it’s going to suck.

“What the fuck happened?” Eraserhead snaps as he leaps down into the alley, Midnight, who’s acting as his supervisor tonight, following him closely. Izuku sighs tiredly. “Stain,” he mutters. “This one thought it would be a good idea to go vigilante on his ass.”

At least Iida looks sheepish in the face of the actual vigilantes - not that he knows they’re vigilantes - and the pro hero. Native is still worryingly unconscious but beyond keeping pressure on his wounds, there’s not much Izuku can do for him.

“Crossout, are you injured?” Midnight interjects as Shouta nudges Izuku gently away from Native and takes over the first aid.

Izuku shakes his head numbly. “Not yet.”

“Yet?” Midnight teases and Izuku nods again.

“I may have... left Present Mic against orders,” Izuku says sheepishly.

Midnight winces even as she pulls Iida over to give him a thorough check over. “Only minor scrapes; you got incredibly lucky, Iida.”

The boy nods guiltily.

The sound of footsteps in the alley has Midnight and Crossout whipping around, defensive stances at the ready.

Luckily, it’s just Present Mic, who looks relieved for a moment before a cold expression takes its place on his face. Oh, Izuku is in for it.

Surprisingly, Hizashi doesn’t speak to him until they’re at home, after dropping Midnight off at UA. Shouta is still at the hospital, staying with Iida as the teen gives his statement.

Oboro must already be in bed, because the lights are off and the house is cold when Izuku and Hizashi get home. They take off their shoes and move to the living room, where Hizashi finally breaks the icy silence between them, the one that’s been feeding the tension swirling around in Izuku’s stomach.

“Your internship is finished,” Hizashi says quietly. His voice is cold and detached and Izuku shrinks in on himself. He knows he screwed up but -

There was no time. And Hizashi never moves without proper intel, and he never would’ve trusted Izuku’s gut - never mind that it’s not instinct, and rather just his brain putting things together faster than he can speak and -

“I - I’m sorry,” Izuku chokes out and Hizashi raises an incredulous eyebrow.

“No, you’re not,” he snaps. “If you were sorry, you wouldn’t do it again. But I know you, and you’d do the same thing again in a heartbeat.” Hizashi pauses then, something flickering in his eyes. “How can I trust you to listen after that?”

How indeed. Izuku doesn’t have an answer and stares blankly up at the blonde hero, who turns away with a huff of frustration.

Something brittle in Izuku cracks at that, and he makes sure to use every ounce of stealth training Shouta gave him to slip quietly out of the room while Hizashi isn’t looking. A heavy weight is pushing up from his stomach, blocking his throat and making it hard to breathe.

He just wanted to save his classmate.

“Gods kid, I’ve been looking all over for you,” Shouta says when he finally finds Izuku curled up behind an air conditioning unit on top of the business course building.

“Sorry,” Izuku mumbles, clutching his knees to his chest.

“Don’t be,” Shouta says wryly. “It means you’ve learned from your training.”

It’s a teasing compliment, but genuine too. Izuku knows that but he can’t quite smother the sob that builds in his chest anyway.

“Zuku,” Shouta murmurs gently. “Come here.”

Izuku shakes his head, keeping his face buried in his knees. He doesn’t want to leave his little sanctuary.

Shouta sighs quietly then, and somehow manages to scramble into the tiny space left beside Izuku. It’s impractical and cramped, and only makes him cry harder. An arm wedges itself around him, and Izuku slumps sideways into his dad’s hold, despite the guilt whispering in his head that he doesn’t deserve this.

They don’t speak again that night.

Izuku wakes up in his bed, fairly certain that he hadn’t fallen asleep there. But his dad is asleep beside him, facing towards him with an arm thrown protectively over Izuku’s waist. It’s not unfamiliar for them, although it’s been a while since they’ve shared a bed. Not since before they turned themselves in, and had occasional nights crashing in an awful safe house, an apartment with cracked windows and creaking floorboards. The only way to stay warm there was to huddle together until morning, when they could be certain no one would follow them home.

Izuku closes his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to slow the anxiety from rising in his stomach again. The pressure behind his sternum is nearly unbearable and -

“Hey, hey, you’re alright,” Shouta murmurs, voice hoarse with sleep and Izuku starts crying because now he’s woken his dad and -

“Izuku,” Shouta says more firmly, and he pulls Izuku close so his cheek rests solidly against his dad’s chest. He can hear the steady beating of his heart and eventually, between that and his dad running cool fingers through his hair, Izuku manages to start breathing again.

“Well done,” Shouta murmurs. “Shall we-”

“He didn’t come home last night!” A voice snaps right outside Izuku’s door and he whimpers and clings closer to Shouta. “First Izuku breaks probation and now Shouta; I have to report them, Oboro!”

Oboro says something but it’s muffled by the door and lack of a Voice quirk. Shouta sighs heavily, and sits up, pulling Izuku along with him. “C’mon,” Shouta says, “lets go talk to him before he wakes the neighbours.”

It’s a weak joke, because then people in this house are the only ones that live on campus, and Ochako is staying at Gunhead’s agency during internships.

Izuku shakes his head, and stubbornly lays back down, trying to force Shouta back down as well. The man sighs in gentle exasperation, but Izuku can see the worry in his dark eyes. “You don’t want to see Hizashi?”

Izuku shakes his head. Words are... too hard right now, the weight in his throat swallowing them before they can escape.

“Alright. Do you want me to stay with you?”

Izuku nods desperately. Even though Hizashi thinks Shouta didn’t come last night, he can’t bear to let his dad go long enough to clear things up.

Shouta doesn’t answer, and instead slumps back down beside Izuku. After a bit of shuffling, Izuku is carefully curled up around his dad, head pillowed in the dip of Shouta’s shoulder and bicep. Forget his aircon sanctuary of the previous night, this is the safest place in the world right now.

Izuku is asleep within minutes, and Shouta finally relaxes. It’s been.. a while since his child had a breakdown this bad. Bad enough to steal his words away. The last time was after Eraserhead and Crossout came across a woman’s body at the base of a building at the start of December.

That Hizashi has anything to do with it has Shouta resisting the urge to strangle his partner. While he’s fairly certain this is just a monumental miscommunication on top of an already traumatic night, his parental instincts are already going haywire.

The door clicks open and Shouta activates his quirk automatically, but it’s just Oboro cautiously sticking his head in. His eyes soften when he sees Shouta and Izuku curled together, and the man quietly slides into the room, closing the door near silently behind him.

“Is he alright?” Oboro asks and Shouta shakes his head tiredly. “Figures,” the man says quietly. “Hizashi told me what happened last night. He’s worried.”

That’s unsurprising.

Oboro perches carefully on the side of the bed, leaning forward to carefully brush a stray curl away from Izuku’s mouth. His summer-sky eyes are sad as he watches Izuku sleep. “I’ll tell Hizashi you’re in here,” Oboro says after a brief pause. “I talked him down for the moment, but he’s walking circles in the rug.”

Shouta hums absently, more interested in tracking his child’s breathing.

“He also said that he owes Izuku an apology. After a night of sleep, he knows he fucked up.”

“Do you know what he said?” Shouta asks carefully and Oboro sighs. The man looks exhausted, and Shouta realises that he also hadn’t realised Shouta was home. The idiot must have stayed up all night waiting for him as well.

“Apparently,” Oboro murmurs, “he told Izuku that he can’t trust him to listen to orders in the field.”

Shouta hisses through his teeth. “Damn,” he mutters. Hizashi had somehow managed to go for the one thing Izuku prided himself on - being loyal and trustworthy. And the blonde probably didn’t even realise it. “He can’t come in here,” Shouta says seriously after a moment. This is his son’s room, and he won’t let the safety of it be tainted. Not even for an apology.

Oboro shakes his head immediately. “Of course not,” he dismisses. He smiles gently as Izuku snuffles and cuddles closer to Shouta in his sleep. “Izuku saved two lives last night. He’s going to be a wonderful hero.”

“He already is,” Shouta retorts, and Oboro giggles. He’s well aware of Shouta’s views on vigilantes and heroes.

“I’ll leave you to rest,” Oboro says after another long moment of just looking at Izuku. Shouta can’t blame him - Izuku is very cute. Particularly when he’s asleep, and those sharp teeth of his are barely visible.

Shouta nods to his friend and Oboro takes his leave just as quietly as he’d arrived.

Izuku doesn’t speak for two days. In that time, he leaves his room only to go to the bathroom. He eats only because Shouta brings him meals and sits beside him until the food is gone.

A stifling silence pervades the house, without Izuku’s usual bouncing off the wall, and with Ochako still at Gunhead’s agency until Saturday evening.

Hizashi makes himself scarce, citing work and his radio show, but Shouta knows better. The man is avoiding Izuku.

He knows he fucked up.

On the morning of the third day, Izuku slinks into the kitchen and beelines for Oboro, tucking himself against the man’s side. He’s bemused by this, evidently, but Shouta can see the relief in those distinctive blue eyes. “Hey, kid,” Oboro says. “Pancakes?”

Izuku nods and peels himself off of Oboro only to latch onto Shouta instead. Which means Shouta gets the dubious pleasure of a heavily muscled teen flattening him against his dining chair.

To some it might be odd that Izuku is such a tactile teenager, but given the lack of gentle touch he received during his childhood, Shouta is more than happy to provide some now. Especially as it helps provide mental stability and promotes brain development. It’s just...logical.

Either way, something deep within Shouta is soothed by the weight of his child clinging to him, with eyes far brighter than they’ve been in days. “Morning, Dad,” Izuku mumbles into Shouta’s neck, and Shouta very valiantly does not twitch at being addressed as such for the first time directly. Sure, Izuku has referred to him as his dad, and Shouta’s picked it out of many a mumble storm, but -

“Good morning, Izuku,” Shouta says quietly, given away only by the tremor in his voice. His brat snickers.

“Are you crying?”

“Absolutely not,” Shouta snaps, and then pushes Izuku’s head back against his neck when the brat tries to lean back to look at Shouta’s face. It’s bad enough that Oboro is already smirking at him, he doesn’t need Izuku doing so as well.

So of course, when Hizashi finally slinks in the door, Shouta and Izuku are in the middle of a vigorous wrestling match - which Shouta is not losing despite Oboro’s snarky commentary. Any sign of tears from either of them have long been lost to the carpet as they battle in the living room.

“Do I want to know?” Hizashi asks and Shouta resists the urge to punt the man out a window - a common occurrence the last few days.

“Nope,” Oboro replies cheerfully, as Izuku takes advantage of Shouta’s distraction to slam his head into the carpet.

Little shit.

Shouta hisses at his son, and gets bared fangs back. His son is so feral and Shouta can’t even regret enabling him.

That said, he can tell Izuku is tiring, Shouta’s experience finally overcoming his child’s ferocity, and in the next thirty seconds he’s pinned his son to the floor with a savage smirk. Izuku wisely taps out and Shouta releases his hold before poking his son in the cheek. “You’re a brat,” he says fondly. “Eat your breakfast.”

“Yessir!”

Despite his verbal enthusiasm, Izuku skirts around the edges of the room, eyes ducked to avoid Hizashi.

Right. Enough is enough. Shouta grabs Hizashi’s elbow and half-drags the blonde into the living room. Izuku watches with wide eyes and Shouta sends him a reassuring smile.

Er, a smile that’s reassuring only to Izuku, but tends to terrify most other people.

Oboro is a saint, and Shouta owes the man as much turkish delight as he can afford, because he immediately pulls Izuku’s attention away with a promise to teach him how to flip pancakes. His son in safe hands, Shouta turns his attention back to Hizashi, who yanks his arm away with a scowl. “You could’ve just asked to talk,” the man says, and despite the annoyance flashing in his eyes his words are soft.

“...Sorry,” Shouta says, and he hopes Hizashi realises he genuinely is. “You need to talk to him.”

Hizashi groans and turns to lean on the couch. “I know,” he admits. “I know I do.”

“Before Ochako gets back,” Shouta adds helpfully and Hizashi glares are him. That’s understandable - their other child would be returning the very next day. “Or do you want to burn up in the atmosphere when she inevitably hears about this from Izuku?”

Hizashi finally cracks and snickers at that. “Fine,” the blonde concedes. “I’ll talk to him after he’s eaten.”

“Give him half an hour to digest,” Shouta advises. “He’ll be less likely to throw up on you from nerves.”

The blonde makes a face. “Gross.”

“Be glad I’m warning you,” Shouta says dryly. “I found out the hard way.”

Gods, Izuku had been so skittish when Shouta first met him. That first week in particular was... unpleasant. A lot of tears, and a lot of vomit. But slowly, Izuku had come out of his shell, and life had returned to his eyes.

Not before Shouta had been thrown up on several times, however.

Ew.

Reassured that Hizashi will finally pull his head out of his ass, and that Izuku is in a mental state to actually receive his apology, Shouta leaves Hizashi to it. He has a breakfast with his son to enjoy.

By the time lunch rolls around, Shouta has successfully marked all of 2A’s tests and made a good start on 2B’s. Teaching Hero Ethics and Law at UA is a bit of a change from teaching Economics at a public high school, but Shouta thinks he’s doing well so far. Gods, he better be, because he’d called in a favour with Joke of all people to get a decent curriculum set up. And he loathes interacting with her, for all she’s a damn good hero. She’s just so... bright and bubbly all the time. Is she also Shouta’s go-to drinking buddy? Yes, what about it?

The point is, the previous teacher’s notes had left a lot to be desired and Shouta had stared incredulously at Nedzu when the chimera handed over what little the incompetent man had left. He can see why Nedzu is so happy to have a competent teacher but gods is writing up a entirely new curriculum for three different year levels annoying.

So it’s as Shouta is sprawled over the couch that Izuku and Hizashi stroll back into their little house. He’s relieved to see only slightly red eyes on his child and no recent tears, and Hizashi’s arm wrapped over Izuku’s shoulders.

Izuku beelines straight for Shouta, and he has to rapidly shove his marking onto the coffee table to avoid it being crushed by his son flopping onto his chest. He can’t help the wheeze that results from the sudden weight and his son vibrates with silent laughter.

“What’s the verdict?” Shouta prompts. “You gonna live?”

Hizashi snorts from the kitchen where he’s draped himself over Oboro like an overdramatic coat. “Well, as he’s already lost the rest of his internship, that’ll do for consequences this time. And,” Hizashi adds on wryly, darting away from a playful swat Oboro sends at his shoulder, “he’s been punishing himself enough these last few days.”

Shouta snorts and runs a hand through Izuku’s hair. Hizashi’s not wrong.

“I’m also going to add a comm to my uniform,” Izuku mumbles into Shouta’s neck. “So next time I can communicate better.”

“That’s a good idea,” Shouta says. “Based on our old ones?”

Izuku shakes his head. “Nah, that girl from the festival, Hatsume? She has some interesting ideas so I want to see what she comes up with.”

Shouta thinks back to the pink-haired girl and grins. “Something explosive, no doubt.”

“With any luck,” Izuku agrees cheerfully, and out of the corner of his eye Shouta sees Hizashi blanch.

Yeah, things are back to normal.

Chapter Text

Of course, because Shouta’s problem child is involved, nothing can ever be easy. This is proven the week after internships finish when Bakugou stalks into the classroom and slams his hands down on Izuku’s desk. Shouta cracks an eyelid open from where he’s napping in the corner, and sees Hizashi paying close attention to the two boys as well.

“The old hag wants to see you,” Bakugou snaps and Izuku jerks upright suddenly.

“You told her?” he asks incredulously and Bakugou scowls furiously.

“Of course I didn’t,” he retorts. “She saw you at the fucking sports festival, idiot.”

Izuku freezes. “Ah,” he says, and he’s very pale. “That’s - I didn’t think of that.”

“So?” Bakugou prompts after another second, and Izuku groans, face planting into his desk.

“Sure, I’ll meet her. When?”

“Tonight,” Bakugou says. “So I can keep and eye on you and you can’t wriggle your way out of it.”

Shouta will give the blonde this - he’s true to his word. He keeps a close watch on Izuku the whole day, who just seems exasperated by the whole thing. At the end of the day, however, Izuku lingers in the class until everyone but Bakugou has left. Then, he informs the blonde bluntly, “I’m bringing my dad.”

“You don’t have a fucking dad,” Bakugou snaps, rolling his eyes. Hizashi, wiping down the whiteboard, chokes down laughter as Shouta glares at the explosive teen.

“Obviously not my bio dad,” Izuku retorts, the disdain clear in his voice. “My adopted dad.”

That shuts the explosive teen up quick. “Your... adopted dad.”

“Yeah,” Izuku says. “Who the hell do you think I’ve been living with this whole time?”

Shouta grins wickedly at his son’s well-timed snark, and easily dodges the marker Hizashi tosses at him for encouraging Izuku’s behaviour. It’s a common occurrence, to be fair.

“Fine, whatever,” Bakugou says eventually when it’s clear Izuku isn’t going to budge. “Let’s go.”

To say the look on Bakugou’s face is surprised when Izuku turns to Shouta and calls him ‘Dad’ would be an understatement. The teen fully stalls and Izuku and Shouta are halfway down the hallway when he finally reboots.

“What the fuck?!”

When the door to the Bakugou household is opened, Bakugou Mitsuki immediately pales at the sight of Izuku. Shouta’s son is then pulled in for a tight hug by the blonde woman, while the man that must be her husband bursts into tears. 

Shouta... just stands there awkwardly; i t’s going to be a long night. 

It gets even longer after a surprisingly pleasant meal of spicy curry that Izuku shovels down like he’s been starved. Shouta takes great joy in ruffling his son’s hair and telling him to slow down - what can he say, the utter bewilderment on Bakugou’s face is hilarious. Everything is going well, too well, so course, something has to go wrong.

It begins with the doorbell to the Bakugou residence ringing, and Mitsuki rushing away to answer it. Shouta, too focused on watching Izuku’s frankly sweet and adorable interactions with Masaru, dismisses her odd expression as one of annoyance at the reunion being interrupted. He’s more than happy just sitting, eyes soft as they rest on his son.

Bakugou’s attitude about this whole thing is also hilarious to watch out of the corner of his eye.

Surrounded by civilians, and distracted by his son, Shouta makes the mistake of relaxing. Not much, but more than he should. Which is why he’s actually caught off-guard when a familiar face walks into the room, looking exhausted. “And you’re certain it’s Midoriya Izuku?” the man is asking and Mitsuki nods frantically.

Shouta is up and on his feet in an instant, striding across the room to push Izuku firmly behind him. He will protect his son.

“See!” Mitsuki exclaims, and there’s fear shining in her red eyes. “He’s the one that kidnapped Izu-chan and faked his death!”

Ah  shit. Shouta knew that little technicality was going to come back to bite him one day. 

“Please remain calm, Ms Bakugou,” Detective Tsukauchi says levelly. His eyes are sharp and locked on Shouta, flicking down only briefly to Izuku. “Forgive me for intruding, but I was called here about a cold case. Which,” Tsukauchi sighs, “seems to be solved.”

“What case?” asks a quiet voice, and to Shouta’s immense surprise it’s the explosive blonde teen asking.

“The missing persons case for Midoriya Izuku,” Tsukauchi elaborates. “It was opened only a few weeks ago when we received a tip urging a review into his death.” Yeah, Shouta has his suspicions about who sent that tip in, considering Mitsuki’s nervous step away from him.

“The reports were greatly exaggerated,” Izuku mutters so quietly only Shouta can hear, and his lips twitch in the slightest smile.

“Sure,” Shouta says dryly, outwardly ignoring his son’s poorly- timed humour, even though it’s helped cool his rage some. “You’re investigating a case now that your department dropped the ball on years ago? Well done for finally doing the bare minimum.”

Izuku snickers behind Shouta as Tsukauchi sighs. “You’re right,” he admits. “The officers that closed his case were incompetent and grossly negligent.”

“Not really,” Izuku pipes up. “Just quirkist assholes who didn’t give a shit about another quirkless suicide. No one did.”

“Izuku, that’s not true!” Mitsuki cries. “Your mother cared! We cared!”

“When I first took Izuku in,” Shouta says icily, “he was the height of an eight year old and weighed only 23 kilos. He was thirteen. That doesn’t seem like he had a mother that cares about her son.”

Mitsuki is pale and silent but her jaw is set.

Shouta doesn’t let her get a word in, not when he can feel Izuku trembling as he holds tight to the back of his shirt. “He should’ve been a foot taller, and twice that weight,” he continues with far more patience than this situation calls for, just to drive the point home. His child is clinging to him, nearly hiding under his arm from the other three adults in the room. “It has taken years to get Izuku back to a healthy weight, and I will not let you imply that that woman is a more suitable parent than I am.” That Izuku will never reach the height he should have goes unsaid. Even people inexperienced with malnutrition are aware of its lasting effects on the body.

Particularly on children.

At least Bakugou looks horrified by what’s happening. He clearly had no idea he was being used to lure his childhood friend into a trap. He also looks like he might be sick at the description Shouta gave of his son’s condition only a few years ago.

“She was always drunk,” Izuku chimes in suddenly and Shouta scowls fiercely at the broken sound of his son’s voice. “I don’t think I ever saw her sober, those last few months.”

“He’s not lying,” Tsukauchi interjects tiredly when Mitsuki looks like she’s going to protest. “Neither of them are. That doesn’t make this right, not by a long shot, however.”

Shouta scowls fiercely at the man. Tsukauchi has always been a pain in his ass, even if the other man doesn’t realise he’s talking to Eraserhead right now. “Call Nedzu,” Shouta snaps tiredly. “He’s fully aware of the situation.”

Is he throwing the chimaera under the bus? Absolutely.

“Do you have a personal problem with me?” Tsukauchi asks curiously as he pulls his phone out.

Shouta snorts. “So many,” he says truthfully at the same time as his son. Ah, he’s taught Izuku well.

Tsukauchi actually breaks and sends them both a brief scowl before his professionalism returns. A quick call to Nedzu later and the man looks resigned and pained.

Yeah, that’s usually how Shouta feels after talking to the UA Principal as well.

With a muttered curse, Tsukauchi shoos the Bakugou family out of the living room and only when the door closes behind them does he fix Shouta with a scowl. “You’re Eraserhead?”

Shouta smirks. “I am.”

“And Midoriya, you’re Crossout,” Tsukauchi directs are Izuku who responds in the affirmative.

“And you’re both under the guardianship of UA as part of some obscure vigilante reformation program Nedzu somehow slipped past the Commission.”

Shouta’s “yes,” may have been a bit too gleeful.

“That still leaves us with the very real charge of kidnapping,” Tsukauchi says tiredly.

“Shouta didn’t kidnap me though,” Izuku says suddenly and Tsukauchi frowns.

“That’s not registering as entirely a lie,” the man admits. “Care to tell me the whole story so I can work out what to tell the Bakugous?”

Izuku looks up at Shouta who shrugs. It’s up to his kid.

“I was going to kill myself,” Izuku says decisively and the Detective pales as his quirk must register it as true. “Shouta saved my life.”

“He faked your death.”

“Well... yeah,” Izuku admits. “I went with it willingly though. And no one really cared anyway?”

“The Bakugous seemed to care,” Tsukauchi says gently and Izuku snorts rudely.

“Katsuki told me to jump off a roof the day before I decided to,” he says bluntly. “So forgive me for not giving a shit. And Shouta’s taken better care of me than my mother ever did. He pulled me out of school where I was being bullied every single day and the teacher’s didn’t care about me. He homeschooled me on top of his other work, and we went to movies and the arcade and for the first time since I was diagnosed quirkless like it's a disease, he gave me a normal life! A good life!” By the time Izuku finishes, his chest is heaving and his fists are clenched.

Shouta decides its time to take over, and rests a gentle hand on his son’s shoulder. “Izuku is my son,” he tells the Detective levelly, knowing his quirk will be ringing with the truth. “And I have never done anything to harm him, nor will I in the future.”

Tsukauchi groans and sits on the couch, rubbing at his jaw. “You’re a pain in my ass, Eraser,” he informs Shouta.

“Same to you,” Izuku says before Shouta can, and he ruffles his son’s hair in approval. He’s taught him so well.

“Whatever,” Tsukauchi sighs. “So now that I know the identities of the two vigilantes I’ve been tracking for years, I can’t even arrest either of you.”

“Nope,” Shouta says cheerfully, and he gives the Detective his sharpest smile. “So we’ll just be going now.” He pauses briefly and then grins again. “Aizawa Shouta, pleasure to meet you, Detective Tsukauchi.”

Tsukauchi nearly hisses at Shouta, clearly pissed that his hands are tied, even having the full name and face of Musutafu’s most notorious vigilante. The blatant lie probably also ticked him off, judging from the twitching of his eyelid.

“And I’m Aizawa Izuku,” his son adds, with an appropriate amount of glee. “I would really appreciate it if you would call me Aizawa and not Midoriya. After all,” Izuku grins just as sharply as Shouta, “Midoriya Izuku is dead.”

“Well,” Izuku says once he and Shouta both make it back to UA, “if I didn’t already have trust issues, I sure would now.”

Shouta snorts in amusement. “That’s fair,” he says. Then, because he’s the adult even if it sucks to say this, “you know she just did it because she cares?” And really, now that they’re both safe, Shouta has begrudging respect for Mitsuki, who clearly just wants the best for Izuku. She’d been fully prepared to go up against a fully grown man with clear combat training to protect him.

Izuku groans. “I know,” he mutters. “But it still ruined a perfectly good evening.”

That’s true. “Did you get the spicy curry recipe at least?” Shouta prompts and Izuku nods enthusiastically.

“Nicked it when Aunty went to the loo before dinner,” Izuku says happily. “Oboro’ll love it.”

“Nicely done,” Shouta says approvingly. “C’mon, let’s go harass Hizashi.”

But when Shouta goes to open the door to their little house, Izuku hesitates on the porch. “Zuku?”

“You really did save me, Dad,” Izuku murmurs, head ducked and fists clenching the bottom of his hoodie.

Shouta’s eyes soften and he releases the door latch to run his fingers through soft black curls. “Zuku,” he says gently. “What’s this about?”

Izuku shrugs helplessly, still not quite meeting Shouta’s eyes. “C’mon,” he mutters, and tugs Izuku against him in a rough side-hug.

“You’re the best dad,” Izuku whispers, and Shouta pulls him closer.

“I’d say you make it easy,” Shouta says dryly. “But you really don’t. And yet I excel anyway.”

Shouta wouldn’t trade the wet giggle he gets in return for anything.