Work Text:
Shouta was never the main character.
Growing up, he wished that someone would come to break down the front door and rescue him from his home. He fantasized about being able to come home after a day of school and smile at the blurry faces of the people who would take care of him, and love him .
He can’t remember when he stopped dreaming like that, stopped believing an adult would come and see him as more than a future villain. He isn’t even sure if it happened slowly or all at once, just one day when he was walking the halls of UA he realized it had been years since he even entertained the thought of leaving his house before he turned eighteen.
And that was it.
It didn’t physically hurt him. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if it hurt him emotionally. Because the best way he could explain how it felt was losing something he never had, losing something he would never know the feeling of. The realization, that he wasn’t going to have the parental figure come to save him, left him feeling empty.
It almost ached but was too empty to be anything but an unreachable dream.
When he finally trusted Hizashi and Oboro enough to tell them about his home life and life before UA, as sad as they were, Oboro smiled gently like he always did It’s your tragic origin story, man!
But even when he huffed at his friend’s words and Hzashi’s life crisis of not knowing who he was in the story, Shouta couldn’t help the tight feeling in his chest growing. Because this wasn’t an origin story for him, it just was what happened. He would never be the main character in the narrative because he never got saved, and he never went evil.
He was content to just live his life as a background character now. At least now, he was out. Now, Shouta didn’t have to worry about the footsteps he heard in the hall of his home. He didn’t have to worry about getting water when he was thirsty or was too afraid to voice his needs.
Of course, he still strained his hearing for the rhythmic footsteps that tormented his childhood, he still kept jelly pouches on him at all times just in case, and he still rolled his feet and pressed against the doors when he opened or closed them to make as little as noise as possible.
But that was just because it had been ingrained into him since he was old enough to differentiate his mother’s steps from his father’s.
The point was that now, he didn’t have to do any of those things for fear of his well-being.
He was more than happy to live his life like this for the rest of his days; going through the motions day by day. It was the routine and simplicity of his personal life that he cherished because growing up he never knew what he was waking up to, what he was coming home to– he never knew what to expect.
People like Hizashi and Nemuri, as unpredictable as they were, were also something he cherished. Both in his personal and work life. Since he worked underground though, he hardly interacted with either of them–but still, he was more than content with his life.
As crazy as sounds, he wouldn’t change anything. Those questions people ask: what would you change if you could? Or If you could tell past you something what would you tell them?
And as irrational as it was, those questions scared the fuck out of him. There were way too many possibilities, too many directions he could’ve taken, too many different outcomes to even think like that. He hated that young Shouta went through what he did, but he got out. He is happy now, as happy as he can be without fully understanding emotions. There could be another universe where one little change would have gotten him saved and ended up with everything being fine but he still wouldn’t take it.
The unknown.
Fucking terrifying.
He wouldn’t change his home life for anything because he is out now.
He doesn’t have to go back ever.
He’s more than happy owning his small apartment with a guest bedroom that is never used because Hizashi, Nemuri, and Tensei insist on sleepovers in the living room. He loves his stupid cats that leave their insufferable cat hair all over his Hero Uniform.
It didn’t matter to him anymore that he never was rescued by a parental figure or a mentor like little kids were in stories, it didn’t bother him anymore that he would never be the cliche main character who proves everyone wrong against all odds, he didn’t care if he was truly a background character in the scheme of everything.
Because he has more than he ever did growing up.
____
His mundane-ish, predictable days came to a screech when he received a phone call from Nedzu.
Nedzu, the Principal of UA.
Nedzu, his first homeroom teacher before he transferred to the Hero Course.
“I called you here to offer you a teaching position.” Nedzu smiled pleasantly at him, or as pleasantly as he could.
“Nedzu, I already have a job.” He did his best to stifle a yawn, working patrols in the middle of the night only to have tea with the principal of UA was not a sound strategy.
“Of course you do!” Nedzu poured more tea into Shouta’s cup.
Great .
“I wanted to ask you to teach the Hero Course. Specifically 1-A.” Shouta was surprised, but he found himself thinking about teaching the youth. Teaching potential heroes, he could equip new heroes with what they needed to survive in the real world. He could stop idiots from getting their Hero Licenses. They could benefit from having him teach.
Instead, he said. “I don’t have a teaching license.”
“No need to worry about that Shouta,” Nedzu’s tone gave away how he had prepared for that. “I have already gone and gotten all the courses you and the other staff members would have to take for the position.”
“I see,” Shouta had no doubt Nedzu knew exactly how this conversation was going to go. “Mind if I take some time to decide?”
“Of course not, Shouta. You wouldn't start until at least nine months from now, so take all the time you need.” Nedzu’s teeth glinted, showing his own excitement. “You might as well take the courses since they’ve already been purchased, though.”
All Shouta could do was roll his eyes, collect the course codes, and leave with the knowledge that he would not have to decide between teaching young heroes-to-be and his predictable, kid-free life.
There wasn’t anything wrong with children. He just preferred to stick with cats. There was definitely no underlying fear that he would potentially screw up with children as his parents had.
...
“Get out!” Shouta looked up from the papers Nedzu gave him just in time to see a store shop owner throw a kid out, face twisted in rage. “You aren’t welcome here.”
Something cold dropped into the pit of his stomach as he watched the kid try not to cry. “Please, I just need to hide out for five minutes!”
The owner only sneered before walking back inside, leaving the kid on the pavement. Before Shouta could think of what to do, the kid immediately ran into the alleyway right next to his right.
Right in front of Shouta.
He almost went to ask why the kid was hiding behind the dumpster when four kids came running past Shouta and the kid’s hiding spot. “Where the fuck did Deku go?”
“Hell if I know,” The blond kid sneered. “All I know is that he’s definitely in for it now.” The group took off and Shouta slowly approached the dumpster the kid was behind.
“Kid,” Deku. They called him Deku. “They are gone now. You okay?” He rolled the papers up and stuffed them into his back pocket, slowly squatting a few feet away from the shaking child. The last thing he wanted to do was scare him.
Though, the tiny, Eraserhead? Am I dreaming? Is it the concussion making me see things to the point that I start to smell coffee? That slowly was reduced to a very fast-paced, quiet, mumble– seemed to mean that the kid wouldn’t think Shouta was some weird hobo.
“Kid,” The boy’s mouth snapped shut, and Shouta almost winced at the sound his teeth made. “You were hiding from those kids right?”
A nod.
“They left,” He hesitated before holding a hand out. “How about we get you out of the alley and see if you do have a concussion.”
The kid blinked, peering at his hand as if it held promises of pain. “That’s okay, ‘serhead. The swelling has gone down, I’ll be fine in a day or two. Definitely not the worst concussion I’ve had.”
And wow, that was a lot. “Kid I hope you know that’s not the most reassuring thing to hear. Especially from a six-year-old?”
“I’m almost eight.” His voice was as small as he was. “Just a bit small.”
“Okay, still though.” He withdrew his hand, doing his best to move slowly. This kid needed help, severely. “Let's get some food in you then, you look about two seconds from passing out.”
The kid’s answering grimace definitely did not help quell his worry. “I don’t have any money. Eraserhead, sir.”
“I’m a pro-hero kid, why would I make you pay?” He slowly stood up, making sure to give the kid a wide berth. “So, food?” Slowly, much slower than any of his cats when he first found them in alleyways, the kid stood up and drew closer to Shouta. They both seemed warry of each other’s actions as they made their way back onto the street.
“Where are we going?” He paused, almost seeming to second guess his own question. “To get food?”
“I saw a small café down the block.” He pointed toward it, and the kid winced.
“I-I’m not allowed there.”
Weird.
“I di-didn’t do anything bad. I swear, sir.” The kid pulled at his fingers, his hands wouldn’t stop twitching almost as if ready to run at a moment’s notice. Ah, that must have been why the kid accepted the food. He wanted out of an enclosed space with a stranger. It would have been easy to grab the kid if made a break for it in the alley. He noticed every few seconds the kid shifted further from Shouta.
“I didn’t think you did. Don’t seem like the type.” He furrowed his brows. “There is a small bakery by the café-” He stopped when he noticed the way the kid’s face screwed up. He desperately wanted to know why people were not allowing the kid into their businesses. “Actually, I don’t know this part of town all that well.”
He did, and the kid’s expression seemed as if he knew the truth.
“Got any places you would recommend?”
Green eyes watched him, gauging his everything it seemed. “I know this curry stand.”
Shouta didn’t smile. He’s been told it did more harm than good, but he nodded. “Lead the way kid.”
With just a second of hesitation, the kid gave a jerky nod and start walking in the opposite direction that the other kids went. He started slow enough so that he wouldn’t be in front of Shouta–and damn, wasn’t that just a horrifying thing for a seven-year-old to be afraid of.
“Go to school around here?” Shouta only knew of a few elementary schools in the area, most of them were upper-scale though.
“No.”
Shouta hummed, watching the kid take in the people walking by them. “So why are you around here then?”
The kid gave him a dry look. “I decided to take a stroll.” He responded completely deadpanned, and Shouta huffed. This kid was amusing that was for sure.
“The kids that were chasing you,” He hesitated, eyes catching sight of the curry cart. Shouta was about forty percent sure the kid was just leading him somewhere before he made a break for it. “They bully you like that often?”
The kid shook his head, chewing his lip. “No, they don’t bully me Eraserhead.”
Shouta paused, arching a brow. The kid wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Hate to break it to you, kid, but the fact that you had to hide from them and what they called you kind of points to bullying.”
He thought the kid was going to argue, and claim something like it was a game, but the kid pointed to the counter. “We’re next.”
“Anything you’d recommend?” Even though he did know this side of town, he stuck closer to coffee than actual food while he was patrolling.
His question was rewarded with a small smile. “Honda-san makes the best Chicken Katsu Curry.” His smile widened when he shuffled forward, ears turning pink. “Hello, Honda.”
“Midoriya!” Shouta filed that little bit away for later. “The usual?” Midoriya suits the kid.
He grinned sheepishly. “N-No, I’ll just get the Ontama Curry please.” Shouta looked up at the menu, and sure enough, the Ontama Curry was the cheapest one.
Honda’s eyes flicked to Shouta before looking back to Midoriya with a serious expression. “Everything going okay kid? Know this person?”
Midoriya balked, quickly nodding his head up and down. “Y-Yeah! He’s an underground hero. Found me hiding from Kacchan in an alley, offered to get me food.” Shouta took that as his cue to sit down on one of the stools. He moved slowly as if not to disrupt Midoriya’s conversation.
Honda nodded, their brows were bunched up together with a crestfallen expression. “Well, your bag is with my dad in the kitchen if you wanna grab it.”
Midoriya’s eyes widened as if just realizing he didn’t have his bag. “Oh thank you so much, Honda! I hadn’t even realized I lost it.” He looked back to Shouta, brows creased. “I-I’ll be right back.”
The kid hopped off his seat and disappeared behind the stand, leaving Shouta with a skeptical Curry Stand owner. “What’s the kid’s usual?”
Honda blinked. “The Chicken Katsu Curry.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
“I’ll just get two of those then, and you can take off the kid’s Ontama Curry.”
Whatever he said, it seemed to do the trick. Honda’s eyes softened, and she smiled. “Don’t worry, I was planning on giving him the Chicken one anyways. But, that works even better.”
Shouta hesitated for just a moment. “Know why those kids call him what they do?”
Honda paused, gauging Shouta. “If Midoriya hasn’t told you, I sure as hell am not.” Honda didn’t even hesitate. “No offense or anything, sir, but it’s not my place.”
“I understand,” Shouta pulled out his card. “You aren’t willing to risk Midoriya’s trust. I respect that.”
And based on what he’s been able to pick up from Midoriya so far, that must be rare for him.
“You guys have any coffee?”
Honda grinned. “Of course.”
A few minutes went by and Shouta looked from Honda to the empty spot. “Should I assume he left?”
“Hm?” Honda had been refilling his third cup of coffee, eyes widening. “Oh no! The kid loves to talk, rambles like no one’s business and my dad likes to talk to him. I wouldn’t worry about it, he should be back- Oh!” She nodded her head to Shouta’s right, and he found Midoriya smiling at Honda. “There he is.”
Midoriya looked back to Shouta, seemingly surprised that he was still here. “Sorry I took so long, Eraserhead.”
“Oh,” Honda leaned over the counter, smirking at Midoriya. “Eraserhead?”
“Honda-”
Her eyes flicked towards Shouta, her smirk only growing at his arched brow. “Kid’s like your number one fan. I’ve heard more about you than anything thing else from him.”
Shouta pushed the pride and embarrassment that were bubbling in his chest, doing his best to seem as nonchalant as possible. “Makes sense why he was able to recognize me. I’m not really known for being, well, known.” He lazily looked over to the kid in question, Midoriya seemed very embarrassed if his red face was anything to go by. “Speaking of which, how did you know what I looked like? I’m an underground hero, kid. That means-”
“I know what it means,” Midoirya pulled at his fingers, chewing on his bottom lip. “I want to be a hero, and as much as I love All Might and wanna be like him I know it's not realistic. I started looking for heroes like me.” Each word was spoken slowly, almost as if he still wasn’t sure if he should be telling Shouta this.
Shouta noticed Honda was back to work, no longer leaning over the counter. Though, if her flickering eyes were any tell, she was most definitely listening. “Like you?”
Midoriya hesitated before nodding, eyes looking anywhere but Shouta.
“Does that mean you have a mental quir-”
“Food!” Honda set two bowls of Chicken Katsu Curry in front of them, eyes lingering on Midoriya who was still staring at his lap. “Eat up.”
Midoriya looked from his bowl to Shouta and then back to his own with furrowed brows. “I-I ordered the-”
“Eat it, kid.” Shouta nodded to the bowl. “Honda said it’s your favorite. As I said, I’m a pro-hero, I can afford a couple of bowls of curry.” With a small nod and an even smaller smile, Midoriya started to eat. Shouta caught the kid looking at him a few times while they were eating, hesitating every once in a while– almost as if he wanted to say something.
“What does it take to be a hero?” Shouta blinked, looking back at Midoriya. “L-Like, what would you say is the most important quality of being a hero?”
“Well, that is an important question.” Shouta set his chopsticks down, mulling over his answer. Nothing about the question was exactly difficult, but his alarm bells were going off. He had to phrase the answer perfectly, the answer was important to the kid. “It boils down to potential. The reasons for being a hero don’t matter: money, fame, saving people, or just being able to use their quirks. What matters is determination.
“A lot of people don’t have the potential to become heroes because they don’t take it seriously. It is a very, very dangerous job. Because every time you are on the field, you are putting your life on the line in order to save others. That doesn’t mean you sacrifice yourself, it just means there are multiple people depending on your power to live to the next day. Heroes that can overcome their fears and push past their limits are probably two of the most important aspects in becoming a hero.”
“I see,” Midoriya’s voice was quiet, eyes bouncing from Honda to Shouta like a ping pong ball. “So, the quirk is not the most important part?”
Shouta scoffed at that, rolling his eyes and completely ignoring Honda’s affronted look. “Kid, I have to say, a hero’s quirk is the last thing on the list in my opinion.”
“It is?”
“Yes.” He drank the last of his coffee before continuing. “A hero’s quirk is a tool, no more important than a support item. A hero should never be a one-trick pony, kid. What if there was a villain with a quirk like erasure? Then your quirk would be useless, if you can’t fight without your quirk then you shouldn’t be out on the field.”
Midoriya looked taken aback, brows furrowed and lip pinched in thought. Shouta wouldn’t be surprised if the whole kid’s world felt like it had been turned upside down, most kids assumed that all it took was a nice little quirk to become a top hero. “S-So, say someone didn’t have a quirk-”
Oh.
“O-Or like a really weak one!” Midoriya’s hands were flying around. “Could they still be a hero?”
“If they had potential, trained like hell, then I don’t see why not.” Shouta was fully aware of Midoriya’s stare, of Honda who had stopped working–standing with her back toward them, clearly listening. Instead of singling Midoriya out, Shouta looked at his food. “Our society is fucked kid, people don’t like the idea of someone who isn’t All Might or Hawks powered to become something.”
“I-Why?” Shouta glanced at Midoriya, his head was bowed, and he was hiding tears no doubt. It did nothing to mask the thick, raspiness of his voice.
“I think it pisses them off. They hate being wrong, they hate that they weren’t brave enough to do it.” Shouta dragged a hand down his face. “But it doesn’t change their minds no matter what I think because I can’t truly know why they think the way they do.”
Midoriya nodded. “People don’t like…different.”
Shouta nodded. “No, they don’t.” He sighed, rolling his shoulders. “Let’s get you, home kid, we’re losing daylight.”
“That’s okay, Eraserhead.” Midoriya pushed himself off the stool. “I-I can make it home just fine.”
“Kid, you’re seven years old and on a side of town where you don’t live.”
“I-I never said I didn’t-”
“Didn’t have to.” Shouta stood, thanking Honda before turning back to Midoriya. “You don’t go to school around here, just an assumption.”
“Oh.” Midoriya was waving to Honda as they walked. “That makes sense, but you don’t have to walk me home. I-I, you have much better things, much more important things to attend to than walking a De-walking me home.”
Shouta stopped, ice in his veins. “No.” He slowly knelt, making sure he was eye to eye with the kid. “You are a child, not even ten years old yet. Being a hero, no, being a decent human being means looking out for other people. Especially children. And kid, no matter what people say, you are not a Deku.”
Midoriya’s face screwed up. “I-I, With all due respect Eraserhead, it..it is different.”
Shouta shook his head. “No, it’s not. There is no excuse to call someone useless.”
Midoriya paused, obviously not believing Shouta but still nodded. “O-Okay.”
Shouta nodded, standing up. “Okay.” He jerked his head in the direction they were walking. “Let’s get going then kid, sure your parents must be worried.”
Midoriya grimaced, staying silent and that was the only confirmation he needed. They walked for a while, making their way to Musutafu. It seemed the kid really was far from home. As for the kid’s home, Shouta wasn’t holding his breath.
It truly wasn’t that far of a walk for Shouta, but for a kid? Thirty minutes of walking when it was almost dark was way too dangerous for a child this young.
“We’re here.” Midoriya pointed at a small apartment complex. “T-Thank you for walking me, Eraserhead.”
Shouta nodded, grabbing a card from his back pocket and handing it to Midoriya. “My number.” At Midoriya’s confused look, Shouta plowed on. “You don’t have to use it now or ever. It’s just in case, a fallback.”
“A fallback.” Slowly, Midoriya took the card. His hand was trembling, watery eyes watching Shouta.
“That’s right, kid.” Shouta gave him a small grin, and pleasantly enough the kid returned it. “And, put it under Aizawa. Not Eraserhead. Ya know, safety precautions.”
Midoriya’s eyes widened. “I-I have Eraserhead’s number and name?” It was a whisper, most likely to himself but Shouta still huffed, amused.
“Yeah, you do.” He buried his face into his capture weapon, fighting back a smile. “And you are welcome to message me about anything kid, I’m serious. Even if it’s just for a bowl of curry, okay?”
Midoriya’s face twisted, brows pinched. “O-Okay.”
Shouta nodded. “Good, now get inside kid, it’s a school night.”
Midoriya nodded, shooting Shouta a small smile, and then ran into the apartment complex. Shouta waited a few minutes, catching sight of Midoriya opening his window on the side of the building and waving him off.
Confident the kid didn’t lead him to a fake house, Shouta finally left. Twenty-three minutes after he made it home, and forty-two minutes since he dropped Midoriya off, his phone pinged.
Unknown: Hello, Aizawa, this is my number.
With a roll of his eyes, Shouta added Midoriya’s contact.
Midoriya: Ah, sorry I didn’t specify. It’s Izuku. The kid from earlier. Thank you again.
Shouta paused at the sign of trust. Izuku. The kid gave him his first name.
Aizawa: It’s no problem kid. Get some sleep for school tomorrow.
Izuku: Yessir!
Again, Shouta rolled his eyes.
________
Tuesday(Three days after):
(12:42) Izuku: So can I ask why you keep your hair down while fighting?
(12:50) Aizawa: Aren’t you at school?
(12:51) Izuku: It’s lunch.
(12:53) Aizawa: I just prefer it down, why?
(12:55) Izuku: Well your quirk has a levitation aspect doesn’t it? I’m assuming it’s an invisible quirk that probably mutated from your parents. So I am assuming, I very well could be wrong, that is the reason why your hair floats when your quirk is active. Like I’m not saying you’d have to like shave your head or something but I just didn’t know why you leave it down when it’s an obvious tell.
(13:00) Aizawa: I am not even sure how to respond to that, Izuku. I’ve never thought about my hair being a tell, it’s impressive that you know that.
(13:01) Izuku: Ah it’s nothing special, Aizawa. Just a hobby.
(13:02) Aizawa: Regardless, it’s impressive.
______
Friday(Six days after):
(19:32) Izuku: Is your capture weapon a carbon fabric alloy? I’ve been thinking about it forever. Also, does it have your DNA woven into it or something to be able to move how you want it to? Regardless I’m pretty sure you’d have to have like special grade washing routine for something like that.
(19:33) Izuku: Do heroes have to own special washers and dryers and soap? Like I know there are supermarkets specifically only for heroes, but I don’t know the things they sell there. Or do you guys have to use washers/dryers at your guys’ agencies?
(19:35) Aizawa: Kid what goes on in that head of yours?? Are you sure you’re seven?
(19:36) Aizawa: Yeah, it’s a carbon alloy. Again, impressive that you know that. And it depends on the hero, I prefer to wash it myself. I have a specific washer/dryer unit only for my hero uniform.
(19:40) Izuku: Wow.
______
Every few days Shouta got messages from Izuku, anything from questions about his quirk to rambles about some hero fight he saw on the news. One thing Shouta knew with one-hundred-percent certainty was that this kid was smart.
They got some curry a few times, Izuku spoke about nothing personal and Shouta never pushed.
It took three and a half months for Izuku to finally reach out about something besides quirks and heroes.
Wednesday
(15:53) Izuku: Aizawa, I think I need medical assistance.
In less than a second, Shouta had his capture weapon, sent a message to Recovery Girl, and was dialing Izuku.
“Izuku, where are you?” He was on the rooftops now, heading to Musutafu.
“Aizawa,” The kid’s voice was slurred, all his alarm bells were going off. “That…that was fast.”
“Sure was, kid, now where are you?”
“You know Al-” Izuku was interrupted by a wet cough, and Shouta’s heart jumped. “Aldera Elementary?”
“Yeah, Izuku. Kid, I’m almost there, okay? Can you tell me your injuries?” Shouta was possibly two minutes out, but that still wasn’t good enough for him.
“I have a-a, fuck.” The kid laughed, all bitter sounding. “I have a concussion, a few burns, uh my ribs really hurt they feel like they broke again, and I think my arm is broken too.”
Shouta cursed under his breath, but Izuku must’ve heard it since he chuckled only to stop halfway through due to that horrid wet cough. “Kay kid, I see the school. Where are you?”
“Don’t be mad.”
“Izuku.”
He could hear the wince on the other side of the phone. “Alright, alright. I-I’m on the roof.”
If Shouta’s heart kept doing stupid shit like stopping every time Izuku said something like that he’d probably have a heart attack.
“Aizawa?” The kid’s voice was shakier, and Shouta couldn’t tell if it was because of his injuries or Shouta’s silence. “A-Are you still there?”
“Still here, kid.” His capture weapon latched onto the railing on the roof and he launched himself upwards.
“You mad?”
Shouta swallowed the rage growing in him. “Of course not, Izuku. Just worried.” His phone clattered on the rooftop the moment he saw Izuku. The kid still had his backpack on, curled up by the door of the roof, phone pressed against his ear.
Izuku seemed so out of it that he didn’t even notice Shouta’s presence until he was moving the phone out of Izuku’s hand. He gingerly scooped the kid into his arms, his capture weapon picking his phone up off the floor.
“Come on, Izuku, stay awake kid.”
“Y-You can’t go through the door, Aizawa.”
Shouta paused, eyeing the door. “Why not?”
“I-it’s locked, I usually have to wait for the janitor to let me in.”
Shouta closed his eyes for two seconds and then exhaled. “We’ll talk about that later, for now, we have to get you looked at.”
“No hospital!” Izuku clutched at his shirt, glazed over eyes looking frantic. “T-They won’t do anything.”
“Kid-”
“No-no they won’t.” Aizawa leaped off the roof, Izuku’s phone in his pocket next to his own, and started swinging from building to building. “Ai-Aizawa,” the kid coughed. “I’m serious. They don’t treat quirkless.”
“I know kid,” Aizawa took a moment to smooth back Izuku’s hair as gently as he could. “I knew since the first curry meeting, okay? I already called Recovery Girl. You’ll be okay, I promise.”
Izuku paused, hand loosening its grip on Shouta’s shirt. It was shaking. “Y-You knew? A-And you don’t care?”
Shouta landed on his balcony. He grabbed Izuku’s hand and with as much gentleness as he could muster he nodded. “I don’t care, your quirk status is the last thing on my mind kid.”
Izuku’s eyes filled with tears and before he could say anything, Chiyo was opening his sliding glass door looking from the kid in his arms to Shouta with an expression that could only be exasperation.
“Don’t just stand there! Get him on the table.” Shouta sidestepped past her, laying Izuku down.
“Okay, kid, Recovery Girl is going to help okay? Just stay with us, okay?”
Izuku’s face was screwed up in pain but he mumbled out an agreement all the same.
“Good, good job.” He was pushed back by Chiyo, who was genuinely trying her best to be gentle with the kid. Still, though, Shouta almost winced with every sound Izuku made. “He’s got a concussion, a few burns, says he might have broken a rib and his arm.”
Chiyo tutted. “He most definitely has a broken arm, but he has two broken ribs.” She gave Shouta a dark look. “What happened to this child? He’s so exhausted I’ll only be able to help the broken bones and his concussion, he’ll have to tend to the burns.”
“I’m not sure,” Shouta pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply. “He was on his school’s roof, but not by choice. The door was locked, and this doesn’t sound like a one-time deal.”
Izuku either didn’t care that he was telling Chiyo all this, or he was too out of it because of the pain. Either way, his eyes finally slipped closed when Chiyo placed a kiss on his head. “Shouta, I know I told you that you can always call, but I didn’t mean for children on the street.”
Shouta exhaled sharply. Kami, he needed a drink. “Chiyo, I’ve known the kid for months. And, a hospital wouldn’t treat him.”
Her expression softened as she looked at the kid. “How cruel the world is, that explains what happened to him.”
“I actually met him right after he got thrown out of a store and was hiding from some bullies.” He grabbed a washcloth, getting it just wet enough to wipe the dirt from the kid’s face. “I gave him my phone number after I realized that it wasn’t a one-time deal, Izuku was lucky he got away that time.”
Shouta could still see the blatant distrust Izuku had when they first met, and now it seemed obvious as to why.
“It wasn’t until he was asking if quirks were important to be a hero. If someone could be a hero without one.” Shouta’s chest was doing that funny thing where it got all tight and he felt like he couldn’t breathe even with the oxygen going in and carbon dioxide leaving his lungs. “Kid didn’t realize I knew then, I ju-I should have realized he wasn’t safe.”
Chiyo sighed. “You adopt strays like nobody’s business, Shouta.”
Shouta purposefully hid his warm face from her as he looked for burn cream. “I didn’t adopt him, Chiyo. The kid has a home, has parents.”
“Good ones?” Shouta didn’t have time to respond before she laughed like he was a child who was being difficult, handing him burn cream from her carry-on. "I think the fact that he chose to ask you for help says enough, Shouta.”
That was true. He was applying the burn cream to the kid’s shoulders at the moment and he’d have to be blind to not see the older, healed, burn scars. He wondered how many times the kid tried reaching out for help from adults only to be left to lick his own wounds. How many times did the kid get hurt and not message Shouta? How many times did the kid want to?
“I hear Nedzu offered you a teaching position?” She was putting the burn cream away.
“He did.” Shouta placed a towel over the kid’s chest, not wanting the kid to get cold but not wanting to mess with the burn cream too much. “I’m not sure I’ll accept though.”
“Oh?” Chiyo had that glint in her eye, meaning she was enjoying Shouta’s stupidity.
“I don’t need a second job,” He shrugged, washing his hands, doing everything in his power to stop the trembling.
Her eyes danced from Shouta back to Izuku, her smile growing. “I would say two jobs wouldn’t hurt with a kid, you’d be getting a lot of resources from Nedzu.” Chiyo shrugged her shoulders mirth in her eyes, the glint turning softer. “It wouldn’t hurt the kid to get in through recommendations instead of the usual exam.”
And the entrance exam was a whole other problem for him to deal with later. Instead, he just poured some coffee, leaving the mug he got out for Chiyo empty as she shook her head. “I’m not the kid’s parent, Chiyo. I wouldn’t be able to get him through the recommendation.”
“Hm,” She wasn’t even looking at him, and yet he could tell she was grinning like a little old know-it-all. “Not yet Shouta, not yet.” She slipped her shoes back on, hand closed around the door handle. “Let me know his status when he wakes up.”
“Of course,” He nodded, completely ignoring her first comment. “Get home safe, Chiyo. Thank you.”
The amusement was gone as she nodded, a solemn smile. “Any time Shouta, take care of the kid.”
He knew what she meant, he knew that had a double meaning. “Always.”
It took six hours for Izuku to wake up. Six, long, coffee-filled, nonstop pacing hours for his kid to wake up. The kid groaned, and Shouta almost dropped his cup on the floor instead of the counter in his haste to make it to Izuku’s side.
And in the five seconds it took Izuku to open his eyes, glazed over with pain no doubt and the kind of hazy you only get from Recovery Girl’s quirk, Shouta was standing next to Izuku. His hands hovered over the kid’s head, unsure if he was allowed to smooth Izuku’s hair back.
“Kid, Izuku? You with me?”
Izuku blinked a few times, seemingly lost. “A-Aizawa?” The kid’s voice sounded scratchy, he coughed a little bit, eyes ping-ponging around the room in a daze. “W-Where am I? What happened?”
That tight ball in his chest unfurled just a little bit at Izuku’s voice. “You’re in my apartment, kid.” He grabbed a bottle of water from his fridge and uncapped it, helping Izuku sit up, before handing it to him. The kid looked so small.
Izuku drank like he’s never had water, and Shouta had to gently move the bottle.
“Slowly, Izuku.” Shouta smiled softly, finding it easy to smile at Izuku. “Do you remember what happened?”
“I-I was locked on the roof,” He looked away from Shouta as if he had any reason to be ashamed about it. “I was really, really hurt. I, uh” His eyes flickered back to Shouta. “I called you, and. And you came.”
“That’s right.” Shouta placed a hand on the kid’s knee, gently squeezing it. “You called and I came.”
“A-And,” The kid’s voice was a higher octave now, seemingly doing his best not to cry. “And y-you know…you knew, the whole time.”
Izuku’s breath was shaky, almost as if he wasn’t sure if this was real. Or, if Shouta had to guess, he was probably scared it was some kind of joke. It made the ball in his chest grow tighter. “I did.”
“And yo-you don’t care.” Izuku’s eyes were filled with tears as he searched Shouta’s face.
“About your quirk status? Not at all. About how people treat you?” Shouta cupped the side of Izuku’s face, wiping a tear away with his thumb. “I will make sure they never, ever , hurt you again.”
Whatever Izuku saw in Shouta’s face, heard in his voice, it must’ve been enough because the kid was throwing his arms around Shouta’s neck and started sobbing. Shouta hesitated just for a second before he was scooping the kid into a hug, running a hand up and down his back.
“It’s okay kid, let it out.” He would never tell the kid to stop, never have him hold in the pain he’s been through. “I’ve got you now, you’re safe now.”
The kid just sobbed harder, hands fisted into Shouta’s shirt.
“You’re safe now.”
______
A few hours later, he managed to get Izuku to shower, change into clean clothes, eat something, and sleep in the guest room. The kid had only tried to argue about staying here until Shouta asked him if he felt safe going home. He didn’t push anything after that, just looking at Shouta with grateful eyes and shuffling into the guest room. After about fifteen minutes Shouta heard the door crack open before his feet padded back into the bed. He thought about the things he was going to have to get now that he was thinking of the guest room as Izuku’s.
Now though, Shouta was staring at the teaching course Nedzu had sent him months ago. He had already finished the teaching course in less than a month, but the points Chiyo made earlier brought him back to it.
He never had someone save him as a kid, and though he wasn’t bitter about it anymore, he would be damned if he left Izuku to the same fate. It seemed he wasn’t the main character nor a background one. He was the parental figure who would take in the kid.
He was the parental figure who took two jobs to make sure his kid could succeed.
Thursday
(00:23) Aizawa: I’ll take the job.