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“Hey, Toshi?”
Eri crouched on the floor beside the couch and rested her chin on the edge of the cushion. Hitoshi didn’t respond, looking for all the world as if he were asleep, but she saw his brow twitch when she spoke. She patted his arm, then shook it until he finally grunted in acknowledgement. With one tiny fingertip, she carefully peeled his eyelid up and met his annoyed glare with her very best puppy dog eyes.
“You know that doesn’t work on me like it works on Dad.”
“Toshi!” she whined. He shook her hand away from his face and rolled away. “Listen to me!” she huffed, crossing her arms with a pout.
“Later. I’m sleeping.”
“No, you aren’t!”
“I was, and I would be now if you’d leave me alone.”
She whined again, shaking his shoulder with both hands. “Listen to me, or I’ll tell Papa you’re the one who broke their record player!”
Hitoshi tipped his head back to eye her for a moment before reaching out faster than she could react. Looping one arm loosely around her neck, he mussed her hair, mindful of her horn and unmoved by her shrieks.
“You wouldn’t.”
She took a deep, deep breath and yelled at the top of her lungs, “Papaaa!”
“Whaaat?” came Hizashi’s reply from down the hall, immediately followed by a “Don’t yell in the house!” from Shouta.
Eri wriggled out of Hitoshi’s grasp and flattened her hair against the sides of her head. He stuck his tongue out at her, and she was quick to mirror him.
“‘Don’t yell in the house,’” Hizashi mimicked under their breath as they rounded the corner. They leaned against the doorframe with an easy grin, tucking their hands into their pockets. “What’s up, buttercup?”
She glanced at Hitoshi, who shook his head minutely. “Um, I love you!”
“Aww, I love you, too!” Hizashi swept her up into their arms and smacked a messy kiss to her cheek. She giggled. They grinned. “Are you gonna be good for Hitoshi when Daddy and I go out this afternoon?”
“Yeah!”
Hitoshi rolled his eyes at the innocent expression on her round little face. Little troublemaker. “Don’t you have to be there at two?”
“Sure do. Why?”
He nodded to the clock on the wall over the computer desk. “It’s like 1:20.”
“Oh, sh-” They cut themself off, glancing down at Eri. “Uh, Shouta!”
“Nice save,” Hitoshi muttered.
Hizashi shot their son a wink and a finger gun. “SHOUTA!”
"What did I just say?" Shouta griped, scrubbing one hand across his face and tugging at the end of Hizashi's ponytail with the other as he pushed past into the living room.
"Yeah, yeah, yelling in the house or whatever." Hizashi waved a hand dismissively and passed Eri to their husband when she reached for him. “I know you like to have plenty of notice before we have to leave, so before I tell you that we have to leave fifteen minutes ago I would love to remind you that we both lost track of time, and therefore this is not entirely my fault, and you are not allowed to be mad at me for it.”
Shouta groaned. The intended sour effect was ruined by Eri snuggling into his neck and his resulting affectionate smile. "That's it, I'm not going."
"Yes, you are, my beloved husband."
Hizashi scooped Eri out of his arms and blew a raspberry on her cheek before tossing her onto the couch beside Hitoshi. She shrieked in delight, scrambling away when her brother seized the opportunity to lean in and tickle her neck.
“Now!” Hizashi whirled on Shouta and clapped their hands together. “Go! Get! Ready!”
They punctuated each word with a playful shove toward the hallway, loudly talking over Shouta’s grumbling. The kids watched them go, Eri leaning to see as far around the corner as she could, then turned to look at each other.
“So?” Hitoshi settled back, arms folded over his chest. “What’s so important that you had to wake me up for it?”
She blinked twice like she’d forgotten. “Oh! Um. Daddy and Papa seem sad, I think. I thought they were just tired, but they’re sad in the morning, too. Even after coffee.”
Hitoshi considered for a moment, rubbing at the back of his head in a gesture Eri once said reminded her of Shouta. “I don’t think they’re sad, really. They’re probably just stressed.”
“Oh.”
Eri fiddled with the hem of her shirt, little brow creased in thought. They’d learned pretty quickly when they first brought her home, back when Shouta was still Sensei and the discovery of his marriage to Hizashi was still somewhat of a shock to Hitoshi, that sometimes she needed time alone to sort out her thoughts. Shouta and Hitoshi understood entirely as they both processed things in much the same way, and even Hizashi, who generally came across as the Talk It Out type, seemed to instinctively know when to back off and give her room.
Hitoshi had been surprised at how intuitive Hizashi was, at least in the beginning. When he brought it up after one of their training sessions, Shouta had just laughed and challenged him to pay closer attention to Present Mic's behavior throughout the day. Sure enough, it didn't take long to pick up on the fact that Hizashi could read a room like nobody’s business, direct and redirect conversation with subtle ease, and pull the threads of a situation to influence the outcome while everyone else was distracted by the larger-than-life personality they’d carefully crafted into Present Mic. They knew exactly what they were doing, and they wove those same careful, observant behaviors into their parenting style. It was obvious once Hitoshi was paying attention.
Needless to say, the entire Aizawa-Yamada household knew full well that sometimes Eri needed space to carefully parse her emotions on her own time, so when she didn’t seem like she was going to say anything else anytime soon, Hitoshi tipped his head back into the cushions to wait. If he happened to catch a few extra minutes of his catnap before their parents left, then that was a welcome bonus. After several long moments, Eri shifted, and he rolled his head to the side to look at her. She opened her mouth, closed it, and hummed.
“What’s -”
The bedroom door slammed, and Shouta came stomping down the hall into the living room. Hizashi followed close behind, a brush in one hand and a hair tie in the other. They reached for Shouta’s hair, pouted when he swatted at them, and propped both hands on their hips.
“You’re not going out like that.”
“Back off, my hair looks fine,” Shouta growled, shoving his shoes on at the door.
“It does not look fine for a formal event, and you know it!”
“Isn’t that for me to decide? It’s my hair.”
“If I let you decide, you wouldn’t be coming!”
“Exactly.”
Hizashi huffed and lunged forward in a half-hearted move that Shouta dodged with ease. “We’re gonna be late over this, is that really what you want? Really? Really? Setting a great example for your kids, yo.”
“Oh, please. Like they care.”
“Hitoshi -”
“Nooope.” Hitoshi waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t drag me into this. You’re big kids, you can work it out on your own.”
“Maybe if your dad didn’t act like a toddler -”
“Oh, yeah? Thought you loved me for who I was, Zashi. I’m hurt.”
“Listen here -”
“I like Daddy’s hair when he puts it up,” Eri piped up. The family turned in unison to look at her. She squirmed under the sudden attention. “It’s pretty.”
Hizashi turned back to Shouta with a triumphant grin. “Yeah, Shou! It’s pretty!”
Hairbrush at the ready, Hizashi advanced, ready to pounce, but Shouta snatched the brush and hair tie from them with a scowl. He made quick work of tying his hair back while Hizashi found their shoes, tossing the brush onto the side table and spreading his arms in a There, You Happy? sort of gesture.
“Aww, you look so handsome! That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
"You are the biggest pain in my -"
"BYE, KIDS!"
There was a shuffle, a scuffle, and then they were gone.
Hitoshi rolled his eyes with a dramatic sigh, grinning when Eri dissolved into giggles. “So, what were you going to say?”
“What’s stressed?”
“It’s…” He rubbed at the back of his head in thought, caught himself doing it, and pulled his hand away to scowl at it. “It’s like when you have too many things happening at once.”
“Why don’t they just stop doing so many things?”
He laughed and mussed her hair again. “Sometimes you can’t just stop doing things. Here, come over here. I’ll show you what it’s like.”
She hopped off the couch and followed him over to the craft table in the corner where she’d been coloring earlier. The table was strewn with markers, paper, glue sticks, glitter, and a variety of toys and puzzles. Hitoshi picked up a wooden building block and held it out to her.
“Say this is you. Dad and Papa have to take care of you, right? Because you’re a kid, and they’re your parents.”
She nodded and took the block when offered.
“This one is me,” he continued, handing her another block. “And this one is feeding us. What else do they have to do for us?”
“Um. Take us to school?”
“Right.” Another block. “And clothe us, keep us clean, help us with our school work.” Three more blocks. “That’s a lot of blocks, right?”
“It’s not that many,” she replied, shifting them into one arm. “See?”
He nodded. “Okay, sure. But that’s not all they have to do, is it? They both teach -” Two blocks. “- and they’re both heroes.” Two blocks. “Papa does their radio show.” One block. “Dad volunteers at the animal shelter.” Another. Eri’s face pinched into a frown as she struggled to keep all the blocks together in her arms. “They have to go to the grocery store, feed the cats, go to meetings -” One, two, three more blocks. “- and don’t even get me started on Dad’s class, you know how crazy they can get.”
He scooped the remaining blocks off the table and funneled them into her arms. She gave up and let them fall, laughing when the clatter startled little Jelly sleeping on the cat tree nearby and sent him springing out of the room.
“Papa and Daddy have to hold all those blocks?” she asked. Hitoshi nodded. “All the time?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, Dad could probably stop going to the shelter, but I kind of think that’s one of the only things keeping him sane some weeks. Most of the time, they’ve got a pretty good handle on things. But sometimes it’s a lot to juggle.”
“Oh.” Her little lips pursed in thought. “We should help.”
“Oh, yeah? You got an idea?”
“We could make dinner for them!”
“Huh.” Hitoshi knelt beside her to help her pick the blocks up. “What if we made dinner and went to hang out with Midoriya and everyone at the dorms?”
“Yeah, ‘cause we’re some of the blocks, so we should let them have a night off!”
“Like a date night.”
Eri nodded enthusiastically. “We gotta make spaghetti!”
Hitoshi snorted. “Why spaghetti?”
“That’s the date night dinner!”
“Papa lets you watch too many American cartoons.” He rolled his eyes, acting the part of exasperated big brother despite knowing he was immediately on board with her plan, and stood to rifle through the kitchen cabinets. “We literally have none of the things we need to make spaghetti. We could make gyudon, Dad really likes that.”
“No! It has to be spaghetti, Toshi.”
He stared her down, but she held her ground, and after a moment he sighed. "Okay, okay. Spaghetti it is. We'll have to go to the store, so go get your coat and hat."
The walk to the grocery store was uneventful. Eri filled the space between them with chatter, going on and on about her latest art project and the stray cat she saw walking home with Shouta last week and the super funny joke Mirio told her that she couldn’t remember the punchline to. Hitoshi listened fondly as she babbled on even as they entered the store, occasionally interrupting to ask her to choose between types of pasta or sauce bases, but otherwise content to let her carry the conversation however her little heart desired.
There was no doubt in Hitoshi’s mind, or anyone else’s for that matter, that Shouta was Eri’s favorite person. Their bond was special, forged during the difficult weeks following her rescue into something unbreakable, unshakeable. Now, as he watched her bounce around the store, Hitoshi found himself musing on the similarly monumental effect their other parent had in their lives.
Would the sweet little sister he adored so much have become so bubbly and bright if Hizashi hadn’t been there to coax her from her shell? Hitoshi would never forget the first time he heard her singing along with them in the kitchen, her wavering little voice all but drowned out by Hizashi’s joyful rendition of “You Are My Sunshine.” He’d stood quietly in the hall with Shouta to listen for several minutes before scrambling to be the first one to the bathroom for a post-training shower.
Hizashi hadn’t just helped her find her voice. They’d shown her an unapologetic confidence that, given enough time, she began to exude in just about everything she did. From her ever brightening wardrobe to the increasingly frequent reminders to use her inside voice while in public, with Shouta’s unwavering support and Hizashi’s enthusiastic sense of self, Eri blossomed into the happy little girl that Hitoshi now deftly directed away from the candy aisle.
Together, they paid for their groceries, thanked the cashier, and walked home. Hitoshi chased two of the cats from the kitchen and Eri dragged her step stool over to the counter to begin carefully unloading the groceries onto the counter. Hitoshi came to stand behind her with his hands on his hips.
“Okay. Spaghetti.” He looked down at her. "Let’s get the garlic bread going, and then I can cut up the veggies if you want to put them in the sauce. Sound good?"
"Mhm!"
The bread itself was the easiest part of the meal, a premade tray of rolls slathered with garlic butter. Shouta thought the western-style kitchen Hizashi had insisted on was ridiculous and unnecessary, and while generally Hitoshi was inclined to agree, it did come in pretty handy from time to time. Like when Hizashi had a craving for American sweets, or Eri insisted on cooking spaghetti.
Hitoshi washed the veggies while the oven preheated, handing them to Eri to pat dry with a dish towel. Once the bread was in the oven, Eri moved her stool over to the stove while Hitoshi dug out the largest pot they had. He dumped the jars of store brand sauce into the pot, turned the stove on low, and warned her to mind the hot eye beneath the pot.
"Throw some salt and pepper in there, too. I think there's some in those jars by the stove," he said over his shoulder as he rinsed an onion, a bell pepper, and a handful of mushrooms.
When he’d first moved in, he’d had very little by way of household skills, the result of bouncing around in the system his whole life. Shouta gave him the framework - how to feed, exercise, and care for his mind and body - but it was Hizashi who taught him that those things could be enjoyable experiences in and of themselves, not just necessary steps in his training regimen. They encouraged him to slow down and enjoy little luxuries like a hot bath or the occasional spa treatment shared with Hizashi in front of a late-night horror movie. They urged Shouta to take training on the go, which meant thrilling, exhausting parkour races across campus or over the rooftops in one of the nearby neighborhoods.
They’d also taught him to cook: simple dishes - neither of his parents had the time for anything elaborate or fancy - but made with good, filling ingredients. It surprised him by becoming one of his favorite activities. He was good at it, proven again by the quick but even dicing of the veggies on the cutting board, and it was something he could share with his family - a way to show his love.
Not that he’d ever admit it.
He carried each ingredient to Eri as he finished them and watched as she carefully dumped them into the sauce simmering on the stove. In between, he heard the tiny clinks of glass jars as she seasoned. When he finished the last of the mushrooms and handed them over, he watched with a swell of pride as she carefully sprinkled pepper over the sauce, her little face pinched in concentration. He hid a smile behind his hand.
His smile dropped when she reached for the next seasoning. She sprinkled the white grains over the pot as he leaned around her to grab the jar. He touched his pinky to the surface and licked it.
“Hey, Eri?”
“What?”
He held up the jar. “Have you been using this one the whole time?”
“Mhm!” She finished stirring the sauce and turned to beam at him. “You said use pepper and salt!”
“Uh huh.” Hitoshi pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Eri, this is sugar.”
Eri stared at him and he stared right back. Together they turned to stare at the sauce. It simmered away, the quiet bubbling filling the silence in the kitchen.
"Taste it."
"You taste it!"
They fought over the spoon, shoving it back and forth until one of them missed and it clattered to the floor. Eri crossed her arms and pouted. With a huff, Hitoshi strode across the kitchen to pluck another spoon from the drawer. He dipped it into the sauce, blew on the steam rising from the spoon, and offered it to Eri.
"You messed it up, you taste it."
She shot him a glare that Shouta would have been proud of and leaned forward to slurp the sauce from the spoon. Immediately her face scrunched up and she stuck her tongue out as far as it would go.
"Ewww!"
Hitoshi snorted. "That bad, huh?"
"It's really bad, Toshi." She frowned, looking up at him with the beginnings of tears in her eyes.
"No, don't cry," he groaned, dragging her in for a crushing hug. He squeezed until she was wheezing out giggles. "We can fix this. Probably. Maybe."
He left her by the stove to rummage through the fridge and returned with a lemon. Eri eyed it suspiciously as he cut it in half and dug the seeds out. When he moved to squeeze the fruit over the sauce, she threw a hand out to stop him.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, as if he was about to somehow make the disgusting concoction worse.
"Sour is the opposite of sweet, right? So it'll cancel out."
“No, salty is the opposite of sweet!”
“Since when?”
“Since forever! Plus, I was supposed to use salt anyway, remember?”
“Yeah...you have a point.” Hitoshi rubbed his chin. “How about we do both? I’ll squeeze the lemon in and you can add some salt.”
“Okay!” She grinned, the despair from earlier all but forgotten. She moved the sugar to the side and reached for the salt jar behind it. “Uh oh.”
“What do you mean ‘uh oh’?”
She tipped the jar toward him. “It’s empty.”
“Of course it is,” Hitoshi sighed. He finished squeezing the lemon over the pot and tossed the rinds into the sink to deal with later. When he turned back around, she was pouring soy sauce into the pot. “There you go. Way to improvise.”
She watched him stir the impromptu ingredients into the sauce and lift the spoon to take the tiniest taste. His face screwed up for half a second, so fast she almost missed it, and then he smiled weakly.
"It's...not horrible."
"I ruined it!" Eri wailed, throwing her hands up to hide her face.
Hitoshi backpedaled. "Okay, okay, it's not great. But it's not ruined! Once we put it with the pasta and the garlic bread - oh, crap, the bread!"
Now that he’d said it, they could both smell something burning under the tart scent of the sauce. Eri hopped down from her stool and backed away from the oven, Hitoshi threw the door open and yanked the pan out, coughing as the acrid smoke filled the air, and they both stared down at the blackened remains of the rolls. Hitoshi tossed the tray onto the stove top in disgust and frustration, admittedly with a bit more force than he should have. He watched in slow motion as the tray bounced off the back of the stove and slammed into the pot of sauce. For a few long seconds, the pot teetered on the edge.
And then it fell.
Even if he did manage to catch it, it wouldn’t be in time to prevent a sauce explosion, so he moved instead to shield Eri. The sauce was hot but no worse than a too-hot bath, and he caught the brunt of it across his back. Eri screamed, and the pot clanged against the tile, and in the ringing silence that followed they could hear the steady drip-drip-drip of sauce dribbling from the cabinets and the fridge and even the light fixture above.
Eri stood shellshocked, looking around at the mess, until he crouched down in front of her. “Hey, you okay? Did any of it get on you?”
She stared at him, teary eyed, and opened her mouth to reply, but she was interrupted by a long, low grumbling. Eri peered around Hitoshi and gasped. “Oh, no! Sprinkles!”
“Oh, no…” Heart sinking, Hitoshi turned to look and found the poor fluffy cat positively drenched in red. “Hey, Sprinkles. Here, kitty,” he coaxed, reaching out toward her.
She grumbled again, edging away from his hand, and when he lunged for her she took off.
“No!” he shouted, slipping in the mess on the floor in his rush to catch her. He missed, just barely, and she zoomed past into the living room. She leapt from the couch to the table and off again, zipping under the coffee table and behind the TV stand, Hitoshi always one step behind. Nothing he’d learned in his intensive training had prepared him for the ridiculous task of catching a cat covered in spaghetti sauce, but he was still shocked at how difficult it was turning out to be. Shock quickly turned to frustration and he began flipping furniture on its side to limit her escape routes. Finally, he cornered her between the couch and the craft table, advancing slowly with his hands outstretched.
“Come here, you little gremlin,” he said through clenched teeth, tensed and watching for any sign she was preparing another dash for freedom. She gathered her legs under her with a growl. “Don’t you dare.”
Sprinkles leapt for the arm of the couch. Before Hitoshi could react, Shouta’s capture weapon whizzed by his ear, wrapping itself around her middle. He yelped and threw himself backwards, but she merely went limp with a plaintive mew as if she’d been scruffed. Hitoshi lurched forward on his knees and scooped her up while he could. The scarf fell away, and he turned with a wince to face the door.
If he hadn’t been certain he was about to be grounded for life, he would have laughed at the absolutely bewildered expressions on his parents’ faces. For a moment, all was silent as they looked around the room, taking in the mess streaked across the couch and carpet, the overturned coffee table, their panting, sauce-splattered son. Then Eri sniffled loudly, and Shouta dropped his scarf back onto the side table and disappeared into the kitchen to find her.
“Uh,” Hizashi began. They propped one hand on their hip and combed the other through their hair. “So -”
“Don’t say it.” Hitoshi dropped his gaze to the floor, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “I know. I’ll clean up in a minute.”
Sprinkles squirmed in his arms. Without looking back up, he took her to the bathroom to drop her in the tub. She mewled her displeasure but didn’t try to run, apparently deciding a bath was worth getting rid of the sauce clumping her fur. With her cooperation, it was fairly quick and easy to rinse her down and massage shampoo into her coat. He drained the tub and poured warm water over her until it ran clear. He gently squeezed as much water from her fur as he could, and she took that as the all clear to make a break for it when he turned to grab a towel.
"Hey!" he shouted, making a halfhearted swipe at her as she scrambled over him. A flash of white snatched the cat out of the air. "Wh-"
"Gotcha!" Hizashi crowed. They grinned triumphantly and cradled the Sprinkles burrito to their chest. “No escape for you, missy!”
Hizashi rubbed her down as Hitoshi found a towel for the water on the floor. They left the bathroom together, taking a short detour to plop the cat down just inside Hizashi’s bedroom door where Hitoshi could hear the other cats mewling their protests against their imprisonment. When they returned to the living room, Hizashi stopped so abruptly that Hitoshi walked right into them.
“Sorry, I didn’t -”
Hitoshi’s next words were cut off with a wheeze as Hizashi wrapped him in a ridiculously tight hug. They squeezed tighter and tighter until Hitoshi finally gave in with a laugh, bringing his arms up to return the embrace.
“You made us dinner!” Hizashi shouted, releasing Hitoshi only to hold him at arm’s length.
Hitoshi snorted. “We didn’t make dinner, we just made a mess.”
“You tried to make us dinner!” Hizashi amended. They shoved him lightly. “Smartass.”
“You know it.” Hitoshi looked around the living room and grimaced. “You’re not mad?”
“Nah. It was a sweet gesture! Even if it ended in complete and utter disaster. Why the hell were you trying to make spaghetti of all things?”
“Oh, Eri insisted that was the ‘romance dinner’.”
Hizashi cackled. “She’s not wrong, yo! Okay! Shou took Eri to get takeout, so you and I are going to clean this place up and get everything set up for a family movie night!”
“Family?”
“What’s with the question mark, huh?” Hizashi righted the coffee table and gestured for Hitoshi to help them do the same with the craft table.
“I mean, the whole point was to give you and Dad some alone time. I could still take Eri to the dorms if you want.”
“No way! In this family, we crash and burn together, pick up the pieces together, and watch whatever cutesy kiddie movie Eri wants to watch while stuffing our faces with cheap takeout together!”
Hizashi smiled, a goofy grin with all their teeth, and Hitoshi found he couldn’t help but return it. Between the two of them, cleanup happened quickly, if not the most efficiently. Hizashi hid several things in a plastic tub beneath the craft table to be dealt with later, swearing Hitoshi to secrecy with a wink. They scrubbed all the sauce they could find from the couch and carpet, then Hitoshi carefully spread blankets out for a floor picnic while Hizashi got busy in the kitchen. They still weren’t done when Eri and Shouta got home, but with the four of them and a pile of rags they managed to get the mess acceptably clean.
Soon enough they were sprawled across the floor in front of the TV, Shouta and Hizashi snuggled up next to each other with their backs against the couch on one end, Hitoshi cross legged with his phone at the other end, and Eri flitting around as she saw fit. She apparently had her heart set on The Lady and the Tramp, firmly declining Shouta’s attempts to talk her into watching The Aristocats instead.
“This is why she insisted on making spaghetti, you know.” Hitoshi tossed a throw pillow at Hizashi.
“You and your American movies,” Shouta griped, swiping the pillow before Hizashi could get a hand on it and using it to bonk them on their head. “I blame you.”
“This movie is a classic, and it’s good practice for Eri’s English, and also shut up!”
“Shh!” Eri scolded. “It’s starting!”
While Eri turned her attention to the screen, Hizashi and Shouta fought silently over the throw pillow. Hizashi emerged victorious, holding it to their chest as they wiggled closer to their husband, and Hitoshi rolled his eyes. The family ate together, stealing food from each other’s plates. Hizashi and Eri sang along to every song. Eri fell asleep fifteen minutes from the end, and as Hizashi carried her to bed, Shouta helped Hitoshi clean up their dishes in a comfortable silence. He squeezed Hitoshi’s shoulder, a quiet show of appreciation, and Hitoshi pretended not to notice when he passed his parents kissing softly in the hallway.
Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, he found himself wondering just how he managed to find himself part of an actual family.
This family, he thought fondly. My family.