Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If you suddenly found out you only had two hours left to live, what would you do?

Hitoshi asked himself that question as he stared at the TV inside his dads' living room at the teacher's dorms. He was alone.

Two hours. Two hours before everyone with a quirk was eliminated.

Hitoshi had a quirk. He gripped the remote in his trembling hand and tried to push the off button, but his shoulder gave and he lowered his arm to his thighs, lax.

His sister had a quirk. She was peacefully sleeping in her bedroom, unaware of what was upon her. If the threat was imminent, Hitoshi wished that she wouldn't wake up, that she remained unaware. He wished for her not to suffer through it. He wanted to go into her bedroom, pastel and warm and soft, filled with plush toys and fairy lights and keep her close to shield her from the red, pulsing dot over Japan on the TV that told him she was at risk.

His Dad had a quirk. He was currently at 1-A's dorms with Mirio and his students who hadn't exited UA with their agencies for the work studies, no doubt staring into the TV they had there, tense and nervous. He didn't know what he'd do next. He kind of wanted him there, by his side. His fingers twitched as he thought about his selfishness. He only wanted him there so that he wouldn't feel alone when all of them—

Oh, gods.

Hitoshi didn't dare to think about the word. His hands shook.

His Papa had a quirk. He was in Tokyo. Hitoshi wouldn't be able to get there in less than two hours even if he tried. And if by any chance he did, his Papa wouldn't pay attention to him, probably too focused on helping civilians and ensuring nobody got hurt. Present Mic had always been good at that kind of stuff.

Hitoshi felt his eyes stinging. Hizashi had said goodbye to him less than a week ago before he left, telling him he was going on a search mission, no big deal, kiddo, and had ruffled his hair and kissed his head, leaving Hitoshi unconvinced, but free to go back to playing with the cats and lounging with his phone on the couch.

He should have known better. He should have known that Aizawa's worried expression and plea for, "Be safe. I love you, sunshine," before he left were far more tense than usual. That his Papa was behaving too nonchalantly for there not to be a bigger threat in his search mission.

And now he couldn't correct that mistake.

His phone buzzed with a text message, and he picked it up to see if his Dad had any commands or requests for him to do, or if he was coming back, at least to say goodbye, but when he unlocked it, what he saw made the tears finally fall.

Omw to save the world bby. I wanna bring you here when this is over. The pyramids are rad. Ly 💛💛💛

Denki had a quirk. Denki was in Egypt. Egypt was almost ten thousand kilometers away from Japan. Hitoshi would need some sort of transportation quirk to cover that distance in less than two hours if he wanted to get there. Actually, less than one hour and fifty minutes.

When this is over, Denki had written.

Shit.

They'd only been dating for a few weeks and those had gone by too quickly, too soon, spent in a windwhirl of warm hugs, awkward hands and nervous, cautious first kisses. Hitoshi sniffled. He wanted Denki to take him to Egypt, too. He'd follow him anywhere if he so much as asked. Had he been in the Hero Course already, he would've stood by his side, saving the world with him instead of sitting limp on a couch by himself, feeling as powerless as a new-born deer.

His thumbs hovered shakily over the phone screen, trying to type any sort of answer while knowing Denki wouldn't probably have time to read it when the front door opened.

He jumped, startled by the sound, and was up and on his way out of the living room when Shouta appeared by the threshold, looking like he'd run there all the way from 1-A's.

"Dad?" he whispered, hating how young he sounded. Mirio appeared shortly afterwards, looking morbidly concerned.

"There's a way to stop the bombs," Shouta spat while Mirio inhaled and puffed up his chest behind his teacher, nodding.

Those words made Hitoshi snap out of his panic-induced numbness. "What? How?"

"Midoriya and the others are on it. They've found a key to shut them down and are on their way to the Humarize home base to get it done."

Hitoshi blinked. "That's— that's it?"

"So far that's all we know."

"So it's all up to Midoriya?"

"Todoroki and Bakugo are with him."

"So it's all up to three students to save the world?!" Hitoshi emphasized. He didn't trust Midoriya, not with this. The last time they'd fought in their match with class 1-B, he would've lost control of his quirk, had it not been for him and Uraraka, and class 1-B had put up quite a fight. An organized cult would be far more dangerous than anything they'd ever faced.

"Yes and no. The pros are helping with everything they can to destroy the bombs in case they don't make it."

"But— but—" Hitoshi tried to reason, looking again at the world map displayed on the TV screen and the swarm of red dots scattered over it.

"They've been through quite a lot," Mirio intervened. "I'm sure them and the pros will pull through."

"So all we can do is just sit tight?"

Mirio didn't reply, but Hitoshi understood his answer all the same.

"No," he snarled. "I refuse."

"Hitoshi..."

"Isn't there anything we can do?!" Hitoshi snapped at Shouta, frantic.

"Like what?" Shouta replied.

"Like— Like building an underground bunker so that the gas doesn't get to us!"

"Which is something Cementoss could do. Who is in Tokyo, with Mic."

"We could put on special masks or something!"

"Something Yaoyourozu could make. Who is in Singapore."

"And the Tech Team?!"

"Scattered all over the city. They weren't called for this mission."

Hitoshi whined, anguished, slumping his shoulders.

"The heroes all over the world are fighting so that we don't have to save ourselves. So that everyone can be saved. That's why they're more needed in Tokyo and Singapore than here. Trust them," his father remarked, ever the voice of logic.

That what it means to be a hero, echoed a foreign voice in the back of Hitoshi's mind. He'd heard that sentence too many times to associate it with someone in particular.

He hadn't done his work studies yet. He didn't have any agency where he could help save the world. He hated himself for not making it into the Hero Course sooner. He hated UA for taking his transfer so leisurely. He hated Midoriya and his chronic slowness and the fact that Hitoshi never seemed to catch up to him, no matter how hard he tried. He hated his father for not pushing him further—

But he didn't, really.

He just wanted to save the world. His world.

"Couldn't we—" he tried, one more time, glancing in the direction of Eri's room. His last, desperate, selfish idea. "Couldn't we just run away?" he asked, his voice paper thin and as empty of energy as he was of hope.

Shouta abandoned his defensive stance, then. He approached Hitoshi slowly and put his hands on his shoulders when he didn't back away.

"There's nowhere safe we could get to in around an hour to keep us safe," he reasoned, keeping his voice steady. "All we can do is hope that Midoriya succeeds and that the heroes out there are able to neutralize the bombs' effects."

An hour already. Sixty minutes.

Hitoshi swallowed and bowed his head, his forehead meeting with Shouta's shoulder in its path.

"Eraser," Mirio spoke shortly afterwards, but didn't add anything else. Just awaited his command.

"Eri is probably in her room," Aizawa answered. "Hitoshi?"

Mirio nodded with a short hum right as Hitoshi lifted his head again.

"Yeah, she— She hasn't woken up," he confirmed. Eri's nightmares were on their way to becoming a thing of the past, but the whole family still guarded her nights; Shouta's irregular sleep schedule and Hizashi's work hours making it easy for them to check if the girl was sleeping peacefully or if they needed to bring her back to the present with hushed words and warm touches. "I didn't want her to know about— this."

Shouta managed a small smile, a mere upward tug of his lips, and he squeezed Hitoshi's shoulders. "You did well."

He withdrew, then, and walked towards the front door again.

"Mirio, get me the saline solution. Should be in the cabinet under the sink in the master bathroom," he said, pointing at the end of the hallway.

"Yes, sir," Mirio said, retreating.

"Eraser— wait—!" Hitoshi panicked, extending his arm towards Aizawa, thinking their sudden separation from him meant that they would leave Hitoshi to face this alone, his heartbeat picking up once again.

Turns out Aizawa had only gone to the genkan to hang his weapon in a hook by the door and once he completed the task, he turned around and walked back to where Hitoshi was standing.

"Eraser?" Shouta repeated, trying to look offended despite the amused smirk across his face.

Hitoshi blushed. "I never know what to call you when others are around," he sheepishly explained, scratching his neck.

Shouta chuckled, bringing up a hand to comb Hitoshi's hair away from his face.

"If you need some time to adjust to others, there's no problem with me," he said, reminding Hitoshi that he'd spent mere weeks in the Aizawa-Yamada household. He still had a lot of things to adapt to and so many he'd integrated into his routine as easily as breathing.

His words, unfortunately, also reminded Hitoshi that weeks went by with terrifying speed. Mere minutes were nothing but dust in his hands already.

"But—"

Hitoshi would've wanted to say something along the lines of there being practically zero to none time to adjust to anything now, with the countdown of their destruction having started more than an hour ago, but his words died on his lips after Shouta's next sentence.

"Never once I've felt ashamed to be called 'Dad' by you or your sister."

How could those words sound like a lifelong promise and a deathbed confession at the same time was a mystery to him, but Hitoshi clung to the former with a keen and all the remaining hope he had left in him.

"But obviously next year I'll be Mr. Aizawa to you during school hours, moreso if you end up in 1— I mean, 2-A," Shouta clarified, and Hitoshi felt like he'd been punched in the stomach.

Next year.

Still talking about future plans.

He tried to humm his understanding, but a whine curled around the last moments of the sound, making him purse his lips to silence it, so he just simply nodded.

A countdown on the TV told him they only had forty-five minutes left.

"Will you stay?" he asked, looking hesitantly towards the front door.

The timer disappeared from view as his dad hugged him close.

"There's no way I'd leave you and your sister alone in this," he promised.

Hitoshi nodded, astounded by the casualty in Shouta's tone. He'd never thought of himself as a priority.

"Besides, Ashido and Iida have all but threatened me within an inch of my life if I decided to stay with them rather than my family," he deadpanned. "I guess they have their own plans to face this."

Despite the uneasiness unleashed in Hitoshi's stomach, he managed a wet chuckle, followed by a shuddering breath.

"Dad?"

'Family' was such a robust, powerful word, it was unfair that his own would disappear in less than forty-five minutes. Forty? Half an hour?

"Hm?"

"If— I mean. In case we don't— I just wanted to thank you—"

He was cut short by Aizawa's arms tightening around him, all the air leaving him in surprise.

"Don't," Aizawa whispered, shaking his head. "Don't."

His words fell halfway between an order and a plea, so Hitoshi nodded and the arms around him loosened their hold a bit, letting him return the hug.

Only when they broke apart Mirio coincidentally reappeared, walking down the hallway with two small plastic tubes in his hand.

"Thank you," Shouta said, taking them from him.

A loud rumble coming from the living room made them refocus their gaze on the TV, where a reckless cameraman was showing images of Tokyo's most crowded areas. The sound had been caused by a big portion of a street rising to connect with a nearby bridge filled with unmoving cars.

"Okay, everybody!" came Mic's voice, calling out for the stuck drivers. His hairdo was visible from the top of the moving asphalt and the camera promptly zoomed in on him. "Here's your way out of here!" he said, first in Japanese, then in English.

"Look at Papa, saving the world one scream at a time."

Hitoshi blinked at his Dad's words. It was the first time he'd heard Shouta refer to Hizashi as Papa instead of his name when talking about him.

And he'd said it with so much warmth. Hitoshi turned to look at him, still focused on Present Mic and thought he just saw his Dad fall in love all over again.

"C'mon everyone! Leave this Highway to Hell and don't panic because Show Must Go On, baby!"

And the magic was lost.

"I'm married to an idiot."

Hitoshi managed to genuinely smile, probably for the first time since he'd turned on the TV, and for some reason, -stupidity, he guessed- it didn't falter as Aizawa turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't get too cocky, kid. You're not the one who's been correcting Kaminari's essays for a whole year."

Hitoshi chuckled nervously again as Aizawa brought a hand up to his head and swayed him from side to side. Mirio exhaled an amused breath beside them.

Hitoshi checked his phone again, but, as expected, there were no new texts for him to read, the unanswered one from Denki the last thing on his message app.

He wondered if those three yellow hearts would be the last thing he'd ever get from him, and send three purple ones as an answer, not knowing if Denki would ever receive them.

Funny, he thought. The same butterflies he felt whenever Denki smiled brightly at him or came too close to his face whenever his enthusiasm spiked had turned into an atrocious tornado set loose within him. He felt as though he was going to be sick and pass out at the same time.

"I'll go with Eri," Mirio said, walking away from the living room.

"We'll meet you there shortly. But Mirio?" Aizawa stopped him before the third-year could get any further.

"Yes, Mr. Aizawa?"

"Wake her up and I'll expel you."

Mirio smiled and bowed, "Understood, sir," he said before carefully sliding her bedroom door open and getting inside.

"What is he going to do?" Hitoshi asked Shouta, who had moved to grab the remote and mute the volume of the TV.

"There's only twenty minutes left," Shouta said, leaving the remote, then instantly broke one of his tubes containing the saline solution open, brought it up over his head and poured it into his open eyes, blinking away the excess.

"What are you doing?"

"Do you think I'm going to sit there and accept our fate?"

Hitoshi didn't know what to respond.

"Isn't that what you said? That all we could do was hope for Midoriya to succeed?"

"We can hope for him to switch off the bombs, yeah," Shouta said, rubbing the excessive saline off his cheeks with his sleeve. "But that's not all I can do."

Hitoshi's initial panic returned tenfold.

"What are you planning?"

"The gas contained in the bombs is a substance called Trigger, which is basically a quirk enhancer," he explained, adjusting his goggles around his neck. "It increases the power, reach or capacity of the quirk a person has to a breaking point. Thus, if someone is quirkless, they're completely immune to the drug."

Hitoshi blinked. "So?"

"So, I'm going to make you and Eri immune to the drug."

"How? We're not quirkless."

"You are so long as I'm looking at you."

Hitoshi jerked backwards once he understood the implications behind Shouta's words. "No! You can't!"

"Why?"

"Because—" Hitoshi tried to reason, panicking. "Because you'll need to blink eventually!"

"That's a problem I'll deal with when I get to it."

"It's crazy!"

"It's completely logical."

"It's not going to work!"

"Hitoshi, lower your voice. You don't want to wake Eri up," Shouta reminded him.

Hitoshi growled in frustration, curling his hands into fists and looking down. It was a far cry from his demeanour at the sports festival, but, then again, now he didn't have to pretend having everything under control.

Much less his father.

"And what about you? You don't know how Trigger is going to affect you!" he accused, absolutely terrified of the answer.

"I'm not my top priority."

Tears welled in his eyes once again, and he brought up his hands to carelessly rub them off.

A hand settled on his shoulder. "Coming?"

"In a minute," Hitoshi said, without knowing how many of those he had left.

Shouta squeezed his shoulder one last time, then let go and walked towards Eri's room, leaving Hitoshi alone with his thoughts.

It was so unfair.

Ever since he could remember, his life had been driven by his desire to prove others that how his quirk was perceived didn't determine his abilities as a hero. After entering UA, his then mentor had provided him with the guidance he'd needed to reach his goal, and had given him a family in the process. And now that he was surrounded by far more than he could've ever asked for—

A sharp pain shot from his right hand, and he realized he'd squeezed his fist tight enough to draw blood from his palm. He started at the tiny red droplets, not heavy enough to fall down his hand.

He would never rise to the challenge of being a hero like Midoriya had done, would he?

Coffee and Boo eyed him from a corner of the hallway, their ears twitching and Boo's fluffy tail raised as they pawed silently towards Eri's room. Coffee scurried quickly through the gap in the ajar door, but Boo stayed, big blue eyes studying him closely.

That's why she was Hitoshi's favourite between the two cats.

The thought of running away by himself crossed his mind for an instant, but he banished it before it even took shape. There was nowhere else where he'd feel safer, underground bunkers be damned.

With that in mind, he began to make his way towards Eri's room, the sound of his footsteps all but a murmur compared to the way he heard his heart thrummed in his ears. He didn't bother to try and steady his hand as he reached to slide the door open and take in the people inside the room.

Mirio sat cross-legged on the floor with his back against Eri's bed, cradling Eri close as Aizawa knelt against the wall directly in front of Hitoshi, brushing Eri's hair out of her face. She was sleeping peacefully, and for that he was relieved.

"Do you think this can work?" Mirio whispered, sounding incredibly young in that moment, with only the moonlight shining on his face.

"I don't know," Shouta confessed, his hands lingering on Eri's face, one calloused thumb caressing her cheek. "But I'll try regardless."

He looked at Hitoshi leaning against the doorframe.

"I need to keep my kids safe."

Mirio nodded twice, a short jerk from his neck muscles rather than a controlled movement. It took everything within Hitoshi not to collapse to his knees right then. He swallowed a sudden wave of nausea and even that felt painful. Like trying to dislodge a giant, heavy ball of lead from his throat.

Coffee noticed them shortly afterwards, and Hitoshi watched as the cat feigned nonchalance while slowly approaching Shouta's lap, casually choosing to settle there as if he hadn't acknowledged Shouta and Mirio's presence.

Seconds or minutes went by in which Hitoshi could only feel the thrumming of his heart against his ribs and the knot firmly tightened around his middle.

The silence didn't last long. Everything was happening too quickly.

"There's less than five minutes left, Mirio," Shouta pointed out. "You should go. Try to keep yourself safe."

Mirio shook his head in long, sharp motions as he held Eri closer. "I'm staying."

Shouta sighed, but didn't look angry as he rested his head back against the wall and patted Mirio's knee. "Alright."

He then looked at Hitoshi, a wondering, open look that held and demanded nothing within itself. Hitoshi had never felt so vulnerable before.

"Stay?" his dad asked. "So I can keep an eye on you?"

Hitoshi closed his eyes and pursed his lips downwards. He was never prepared for Shouta's terrible puns, infrequent as they were, but atrocious all the same. He didn't know how he still had the mental ability to make them when all he could think about was how quickly time seemed to go by, then. Shouta patted the empty spot on the floor beside him, directly under the window and Hitoshi's legs moved before he even realized it.

He cautiously lowered himself beside his dad, trying not to make too much noise, because Coffee tended to walk away if any movement or sound roused him, and he kind of didn't want him to go, just now.

Shouta lifted his arm. An invitation. Hitoshi didn't say anything, but avoided looking at him as he shuffled closer and leaned against him. He looked at the corner of the room, where Boo was waiting for him to get comfortable and still so that she could then rest against the backs of Hitoshi's legs, in the warm space between his bent knees and the wall. Her fluffy, pristine fur tickled his ankles momentarily as she settled, pawing at his shins before she finally laid her head against his thigh. She began to purr, then. A low, constant rumble that somehow came across as comforting to Hitoshi.

"Five," Shouta whispered, and Hitoshi froze in place.

Four.

Mirio held Eri closer, cradling her head with one careful hand.

Three.

Fingers came up to play with the short hairs at the nape of Hitoshi's neck.

Two.

Hitoshi turned his head to look at Eri, still asleep.

One.

He squeezed his eyes shut again, hoping for—

Hoping. Just hoping.

Zero.

Hitoshi looked at Aizawa's glinting eyes in the darkened room fixed on him and Eri, his Erasure working as controlled and efficient as usual. Nothing could be heard outside and he felt no pain coursing through him, only the strong, almost dizzying beat of his heart. When Aizawa's eyes gave in to their need to blink, Hitoshi braced himself for a pain that never arrived, and Eri and Aizawa remained unharmed.

Aizawa didn't activate Erasure again.

Eri let out a breathy snore, fumbling in Mirio's hold, and he loosened his hold a bit as his chest shook with a mixture of laughter and sobs.

Hitoshi wasn't doing any better. He surged forward, slouching in on himself as much as he could, gasping as though he'd spent an eternity holding his breath, and brought up his hand to cover his mouth as the first sharp whines threatened to come out.

"They did it," Mirio whispered in awe. Then, a bit louder, "They did it."

Shouta nodded, looking like he didn't know what to say as he took off his goggles and pressed a cautious hand to Hitoshi's back, trying to coax him to turn so that he could see his face.

Hitoshi was still trembling. He gasped at the contact and sniffled in a long, wet inhale.

"It's okay, Hitoshi," Shouta said as he rised on his knees, jostling a disgruntled Coffee in the process; and brought up his arms again to pull both Mirio and Hitoshi closer, letting his son lay against his chest as thin weeps tore through his throat. "I've got you. Dad's got you."

Hitoshi couldn't help but sob harder as he clung to him with one arm, uncaring of Coffee's meows of complain and letting relief course through him as he pulled Mirio towards him with the other.

He jumped sideways when he felt something buzz against his ribs, and it took a moment for his frantic brain to understand it was just his dad's phone. The arm that was secured across his back let go a second before Hitoshi stopped feeling the phone moving against him.

"Hey, sweetheart," he heard his Papa say, the sound loud in the silent bedroom despite the phone not being on speaker mode.

"Hizashi," Shouta called, as tears fell from his eyes down to his trembling cheeks. "Hizashi."

"How are you? How are the kids?"

"No, you— You first," Shouta said accusingly, licking the tears that had collected on the stubble of his upper lip.

"I'm alright, love. We're waiting for Gang Orca's orders. Cementoss is with me. We're good."

"That's g— That's good."

"Now, how are my love, our princess and our little listener doing?"

"We're— We're good. Eri's asleep. Mirio's here, too."

"That's good then, love."

"Can I— talk to him?" Hitoshi asked, twisting his neck from where he was laying against Shouta's side and looking at him with a worried, hopeful expression.

"Do you have more time? Hitoshi wants to talk to you," Shouta asked Hizashi in lieu of an answer.

"For my son? Always."

Shouta just smiled, and Hitoshi didn't know if he should pretend he hadn't heard that last bit. He was sure his lie wouldn't get across, with how close to Shouta he was, so he just took Shouta's phone between shaky fingers and carefully brought it up to his ear.

"Papa?"

"Hey, Toshi. How are you, kiddo?"

"I'm f— I'm fine."

"I'm so glad, little listener. You've been very brave, you know that?"

Hitoshi pushed past the shame of being talked to like he was just a kid and tried to confess his cowardice. His parents thought too highly of him and they had it all wrong—

"I wasn't, I only focused on us, I— I was selfish-"

"But you stayed there with Dad and the others, didn't you?"

Hitoshi keened, nodding, realizing a second too late that his Papa wouldn't be able to see him do so.

Still, it looked like he had.

"What you've done is incredibly hard. Harder than being here in the front line. I'm very proud of you, Hitoshi."

He tried to answer, but then, a high-pitched screech echoed through the phone and he yanked it away from his ear reflexively.

"Sorry, kiddo!" Mic said when the shrieking subsided. "That was Gang Orca. His ultrasound sometimes has that effect on phone calls. I'll talk with you later, love you!"

Mic hung up quickly, to prevent any more shrieks from reaching them, and Hitoshi promptly returned the phone to its owner.

Silence took over them again. Less tense than before, but Hitoshi could still feel the aftershocks of the last few minutes coursing through him. He doubted he'd managed to get rid of them anytime soon.

At least not until both his Papa and Denki arrived back at UA, and he could see with his own two eyes that they were safe and sound.

"A thousand yen that Midoriya has broken his arm again," Shouta said to Mirio, melting against the wall and stretching his legs, pointing his toes with a few pops of his joints. Coffee sprawled between his thighs carelessly and Shouta took his chance to tickle the cat's belly, getting a nibble to his wrist in response.

Mirio chuckled. "Two thousand that he's broken both," he teased back.

"Chiyo is going to chew my ear off more than my damn husband if that happens. I'm starting to question if my teaching is any good."

Mirio laughed, Shouta following afterwards with a sigh more than a laugh, the tension nowhere to be seen.

Mirio's phoned buzzed for a second, and he repositioned Eri in his lap so that he could answer his message.

"Is Tamaki alright?" Shouta asked.

Mirio nodded. "They're going to regroup to help the traffic return to normal. He says Kirishima keeps trying to get him to talk to the press."

Shouta chuckled. "Some things never change," he said, sounding nostalgic.

Hitoshi hadn't yet collected the willpower to let go, so he twisted a bit to reach for his phone in his back pocket and turned it on to see Denki had sent him a selfie, posing with Sero in front of the defused bomb.

Shouta let out an exasperated sigh above him, but before he could say anything, a small voice caught their attention.

"Daddy?"

Eri slowly rubbed the sleep off her face, no doubt awakened after being jostled too much. "What's happening?" Big, ruby eyes inspected faces damp with tears in search of an answer as her small fist curled around the fabric of Mirio's shirt.

"Nothing, Eri. It's okay."

"We just had a bad nightmare, princess," Shouta explained, using Hizashi's first nickname for the girl as he grabbed her by the sides to hug her close. "And needed some time to get better."

"Oh," came the quiet reply, and Eri's arms circled his neck.

"I had one the other day," she said. "Papa helped me with it. He sang and then made some chocolate, 'cause he said it could help me have sweeter dreams. But I don't know how to sing."

Shouta chuckled, more tears falling down with the motion.

"Will Papa come back soon, Daddy?"

"In just a couple of days, but I think we still can make this work," he smiled, looking at the teenagers. "What do you say, shall we try Eri's idea?"

Mirio nodded, already looking more like his usual self while Hitoshi slowly pulled away into a kneeling position.

"Alright, then. Up we go," Shouta said while slowly lifting himself and Eri up, Mirio and Hitoshi following suit.

"We'll go to the kitchen to make ourselves something sweet. Want to go back to sleep?" he suggested.

Eri shook her head pointedly. "Lemillion and Deku helped me smile again when I arrived to UA. I want to do the same, now."

Shouta nodded, shifting Eri so that she could rest against his shoulder. "Thank you, Eri."

Hitoshi could see that his dad was still crying silently, apparently only now being hit with what they'd lived through, and made a point to turn on the radio on the kitchen to a low volume, dialling Shouta's favourite station to fill the silence while they cooked.

Their favourite host wouldn't be there tonight, but he figured the background songs would make up for Eri's alleged lack of musical talent.

Chapter Text

Hitoshi woke up, drowsy and confused, to short, manicured nails scratching a gentle arch across the skin behind his ear. He opened his eyes and saw light streaming from his bedroom window and a familiar presence kneeling by his bedside.

"Papa?"

"Hey, Toshi. I just wanted to check on you. You can go back to sleep, hon. Looks like you need it."

Hitoshi made an unintelligible sound in the back of his throat and closed his eyes as his Papa let go and fumbled with the curtains of his room.

When he woke up again, sometime later, he'd forgotten about his early-morning visit, so it came as a surprise when he stumbled into the kitchen and found Hizashi stirring a steaming pot of broth by the stove.

"Good morning, kiddo!" his Papa greeted, not without amusement.

In an instant, all traces of slumber disappeared from his face as he tripped and hit his back against the fridge.

"Papa?!"

"Hi, Hitoshi," Hizashi repeated, a bit calmer, a bit more amused.

"When—? since—? Pa!"

He was standing straight again in an instant as all the events from a couple of nights ago slammed into him, and he covered the short distance separating them in three easy leaps.

Hizashi set the wooden spoon he'd been holding aside, opening his arms for Hitoshi.

"I missed you, too, kiddo," he said against his hair.

"When—? What—?" he tried, too many questions for his barely functioning brain to form so early in the morning.

His Papa, rather than answering them, asked Hitoshi one of his own as he drew back and poured some coffee into a cup. "Coffee?"

Hitoshi accepted the cup with a nod, the first burst of earthy, warm flavour in his tongue settling his nerves a bit. He sighed, then reached for the sugar.

Before he could ask anything else, Shouta made his way to the kitchen, walking straight to the cupboard where they kept most of the tableware.

"Good morning, Hitoshi," he said with a smirk.

"Hi?" Hitoshi answered with a frown, blinking snugly. It was unusual for his Dad to be so... Awake in the morning. Usually, the most energetic people out of Hitoshi's family in the morning were his Papa and...

"Where's Eri?"

"She's with Mirio and the others, said she wanted to welcome Deku back, too," Shouta explained.

"Ah, right." So they were all back already.

Everyone that had been called for the mission had been expected to arrive sometime in the morning, or so his Dad had told him yesterday. Hitoshi had figured he would be awake for them to arrive, but judging by who had been there to greet him that morning, he'd slept until late.

"I met with 1-A and your Papa at their dorms," Shouta narrated, searching in a cabinet for some chopsticks. "They're alright. Kaminari, too. Todoroki and Bakugou are still a bit roughed up and Midoriya's arm needs some healing. Mirio owes me a thousand yen."

Hizashi chuckled, reaching out to cup Shouta's jaw right as he closed the cabinet to peck him on the nose.

Ew, Hitoshi thought, smiling into his coffee.

He'd missed this.

"But nothing major. Everyone was high on adrenaline, they screamed and talked a lot and you didn't help quiet things down once it looked like they'd settled a bit," he accused, poking at Hizashi's shoulder.

"Oi, it was the best Plus Ultra I've heard in a long time. I still remember how shy they all were before their entrance exam compared to this one," Hizashi replied, mimicking the pose he'd made, then, raising a thumbs-up to the sky with his other arm close to his waist, before laughing at Shouta's frown and going back to the stove to lower the heat.

"Too much energy too early in the morning."

"You're lucky. We were expected to get to UA far sooner," his husband threatened as he pointed at him with a wooden spoon and a mischievous grin.

"Oh? I wasn't informed of that."

Hizashi hummed. "We had a few delays. The planes from both Egypt and France had to make a stopover in India because of some turbulence."

"When was that?"

"At four a.m.," Hitoshi slurred, pouring himself some more coffee.

There was silence for a few seconds, before Hizashi wheezed.

"Adorable."

Hitoshi didn't understand the reason behind his fathers' silent smiles and head tilts, but it didn't really matter. His Papa squeezed him against his side again as he moved through the kitchen and his Dad's muted smile as he watched him do so made a wave of emotion swell within him. He brought up the newly filled mug again, if only to reflexively hide his expression like he did with his hero gear.

"The third-graders looked calmer, though," Shouta resumed, setting the table. "So Eri will spend the day with them. Some of my students also wanted to say hi to her."

Hizashi nodded, picking up where Shouta had left.

"So lunch is up to us three. Then I'll be able to answer every question you have for me, kiddo. Shouta already told me and the others you've kept all this secret from Eri. It was a really clever choice."

Hitoshi's empty stomach twisted uncomfortably at the memory of the horrible night he'd been through, but the feeling was short-lived, Hitoshi's partially caffeinated brain's attention focused on another word of his Papa's sentence.

"Lunch?"

Shouta's smirked turned into a full grin as he ruffled Hitoshi's hair.

"Breakfast time is over."

Hitoshi blinked between them.

"Huh?"

"Kiddo. It's past two p.m.," Hizashi chuckled. "I've been here for a while now, but you were sleeping like a log before, and I figured it'd be better if I let you rest."

"Ah," Hitoshi managed to let out.

"We're having nabemono, but I can make you something lighter if you'd rather."

Hitoshi just stared at him, cup raised halfway up to his mouth. Shouta let out a low laugh as he reached past Hizashi for the coffee pot, Hizashi taking his chance to take a small metal spoon and offering him some of the broth to taste.

"Thoughts?"

"Hmm."

"Thanks, love."

He'd come so close to losing this.

"So, what do you think, Toshi?"

"Yes— I mean. No. I mean— actually, I'm hungry, yeah."

Lunch tasted better than normal, Hizashi's warm stew perfect to help vanish the uneasy memories settled deep in the pit of his stomach and his tales filled with details and gestures making Present Mic's adventure an exciting one, rather than the frightening experience it had been for all of them.

"And that's about it," Hizashi concluded, twisting his legs to sit cross-legged under the kotatsu and setting his hands behind himself, stretching his back. "Cementoss and I reunited with Gang Orca and our students from the work studies and got back home," he said, his joy when pronouncing the last words palpable as he looked between him and Shouta.

"Welcome back," Shouta whispered, and Hizashi reached sideways to kiss his cheek.

If Hitoshi told class 1-A that the very same teacher who'd probably threatened them with expulsion if they revealed his daughter the actual purpose of their mission was the same person who was currently smoothing his thumb over Hizashi's moustache to tidy it, they'd take him for a fool. Midoriya would probably believe he'd been hit with some sort of hallucination quirk. Bakugou would probably scream at him, punch him, even. Mina and Hagakure would squeal like crazy, yes, but Iida would probably take him to Recovery Girl on the spot. And Kirishima and Denki would believe him, but they'd laugh- before asking him a lot of questions he wasn't ready to answer. Yet.

Speaking of Denki, Hitoshi's phone buzzed as he finished putting the plates away. When he pulled it out to read, he found a text from Denki, asking him if he would like to meet up to spend the evening with him and the others— Bakugo, Kirishima, Sero and Mina, that is.

Hitoshi hesitated before typing out an answer, standing in the middle of the kitchen while Shouta and Hizashi finished cleaning up the pots and ladles.

Almost as if on cue, his Papa asked him, "Are you staying for the evening, kiddo?" as soon as every plate had been put to dry.

Hitoshi opened his mouth before thinking about his answer. "Um—"

Lazy evenings at the Aizawa-Yamada household were comfortable. He and his dad didn't have to train that evening, so days like this were perfect for Hitoshi to try new hobbies or go out cycling when he wasn't meeting up with his friends. He was glad his fathers gave him plenty of time to figure himself out after years of not fitting entirely well anywhere.

But today—

Today he wanted to enjoy a bit more of his Papa's company and wanted to meet with Denki so that he could tell him all about his mission in Egypt, and wanted to lounge in the couch playing with Coffee and Boo while his Dad read his reports by the coffee table and—

On the surface, his wants came across to him as whimsical.

But, deep down, oh, what a wonderful thing, he thought with a smile, to love and be loved by so many people simultaneously to the point of wanting to clone himself to be by everyone's side.

"I don't know," he confessed scratching his neck. His phone buzzed again.

Hizashi chuckled and brought up his hand to ruffle through his hair.

"You can go to 1-A, Toshi. I'll still be around when you come back," he said with a tranquillity that made Hitoshi's heart throb.

"Besides, didn't Kaminari look a bit like he was searching for someone when they got to the dorms?" he questioned, leaning against the countertop.

"Indeed," Shouta confirmed.

This time Hitoshi was awake and sharp enough to understand the joke he was being the subject of, and shoved Hizashi's hand away without force.

"You guys are the worst," he said, turning on his phone again to answer Denki's text and to avoid looking at his dads' impish grins.

Minutes later, he was packing a backpack to spend the evening with Denki, adding a toothbrush and a change of clothes in case they decided to turn their date into a sleepover once the Sun set.

His Dad simply waved him goodbye from the couch, where he was lounging with Boo settled across his legs, but he got another hug and peck to the top of his head from his Papa, accompanied by the usual advice of, "Call us if you need anything, even if it's three in morning!"

His dads probably thought their son would always roll his eyes whenever they told him that when he went out without knowing when would he come back, but in reality, it warmed Hitoshi's heart to no end, the promise of a permanent safe harbour for him to go back to.

Hitoshi probably would never say it out loud, though, despite how his feelings had flared up the night of the avoided worldwide threat, so his Pa simply closed the door behind him as he approached his husband and sat beside him, knowing perfectly well his son didn't need to voice his feelings for them to be completely transparent.

"Then it's us both for the evening," Hizashi said with a sigh as he laid back against the cushions.

"So it seems."

"Have any plans, handsome?" he said as he circled Shouta's waist and pulled him flush against him.

"I need to clean the kitchen," he said as Hizashi started to kiss anywhere on his face he could reach. "And to— read 1-A's reports from this mission," he continued, but tossed the one he'd been reading to the coffee table and brought up his arms around Hizashi's shoulders to keep him close. "And— I need to make—"

"Make what?"

"Dinner," Shouta chuckled.

"Making dinner is boring. Let's make out instead," his husband said with a charming wink.

"Don't complain later if you don't have anything to eat."

"That won't be a problem."

"Oh?"

"I have you for that."

In the end, they had some sushi, which they ate while snuggling lazily under the kotatsu, Hizashi's fingers combing through Shouta's locks as they enjoyed the quiet music coming from the radio. It was Shouta's turn to tell Hizashi about what he'd missed while in Tokyo. About Mirio's toughness, about Hitoshi's determination to save them, about his last resource to keep their children safe.

It was Hizashi's turn to listen quietly, hands eventually leaving Shouta's hair to simply hold him close. His turn to press careful kisses to reddened skin, to wipe a few traitorous tears that fell across scarred cheeks, to cherish the steady beating of a worried heart under his palms.

It was the turn of a hushed, "I'm so glad you came back," and a, "I'm so glad you're still here," sung as tidal nerves lowered to accompany progressively steadier breaths.

Eri arrived shortly before curfew, tired but happy and all but melting under the covers after her dads helped her get ready for bed.

A short shower and a warm bath later, Shouta roamed their bedroom in his search for a pyjama shirt while towelling his hair dry, under his husband's fond gaze, when his phone buzzed from his bedside table. He tossed the towel at his husband, who simply chuckled, picked up the phone and smirked once he saw the caller's name before accepting the call.

"Hello, Iida."

"Mr. Aizawa! There's an intruder in our dorms."

Shouta chuckled. "That 'intruder' might soon be one of your classmates. I don't think is adequate to address him like that."

"But, Mr. Aizawa, the rules state that—"

"Let Hitoshi stay for the night. I'll take full responsibility."

"Understood, sir."

"Goodnight, Iida." He hung up as he heard a tsk from beside him and turned to look at the source of the sound.

Hizashi was laying down sideways, facing him, head propped up by his right arm, a pleasant blush spreading from his cheeks up to his ears and down his neck and chest and a smug, mischievous grin spread through his face.

"My, my, my. Mr. UA teacher Eraserhead letting his students skip curfew and the dorms' rules for love? One might think you're totally soft for high-school sweethearts. I wonder why."

Shouta grabbed his pillow and flung it towards his husband, taking advantage of his momentum and pivoting on his knee to straddle him. When Hizashi managed to toss the pillow to the floor, he found himself staring into deep, dark eyes, the rest of the room obscured by a curtain of dark hair.

"Idiot," he accused, his tone full of bite and making Hizashi giggle as he wrapped his arms around him.

"Your idiot."

"Indeed," he confirmed, nuzzling his neck. "Now. You said something about dessert earlier?"

"I'm not even kidding, Toshi. Salaam must be the reincarnation of some Egyptian god or something. The guy was almost... Mystical," Denki narrated, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"And that Egyptian god gave you and Sero a... Poster?" Hitoshi asked, amused, from the floor in front of Denki's bed.

"Hey! It's not a simple poster. He said that 'strength lies amongst what surrounds you,' or something like that," Denki replied, adding a speck of mystic theatrics into his gestures.

Hitoshi breathes out a chuckle, looking at Denki's small gift between his hands and leaning to his side to set it down on his low table, to avoid wrinkling or damaging it.

"Well, some of it must be true, if he's Egypt's number one pro," Hitoshi sighed, leaning back.

Denki hummed in agreement, then twisted surprisingly quickly and ended up laying down on his stomach, supporting his head with his arms and swinging his feet in the air. "And what about you? What did you guys do while we were out?"

Cry, was Hitoshi's immediate response, but he scraped it on the spot.

"We... Waited for you to come back," he said instead. It wasn't a lie.

Denki's expression softened, and he sunk his elbows further into the bedding.

"Soon you'll be able to go with us. And then we'll save the world together. We'll be the best hero couple out there!"

"I don't think I'd like to be on the spotlight that much," he confessed.

"Why? Afraid you'll steal everyone's hearts?"

"I won't steal anything!"

"Big words for someone who once took my baseball jacket and never returned it," Denki accused playfully, winking at him.

Ah. Right.

It's not that Hitoshi had forgotten about that jacket. He'd had it back at his bedroom for a while now, always telling himself that he'd clean it and return to its owner as soon as possible, but then said owner had flown away with his agency and he found himself wearing it more and more often, for no rational reason at all.

He thought he was being considerate, without realizing how greedy he was coming across, yet again.

"What is it?"

"I'll give it back to you soon," Hitoshi confessed. "I just need to—"

"Toshi," Denki called, booping him on the nose with his index finger to get his attention. "I was just playing. It's yours, I don't need it back. You can keep it, baby."

Hitoshi's jaw trembled, Denki's expression so open and sincere Hitoshi didn't know how such a selfish person as him could be enough for someone so generous, so selfless. Hitoshi could give him his whole heart in exchange and it still wouldn't be enough. Denki was there, in front of him, his cheeks a bit reddish from the Egyptian sun and a faint swelling under his eyes, his tiredness transparent to Hitoshi despite his cheerfulness.

"I don't deserve you," he murmured, lowering his head and playing with the threads of Denki's carpet.

He lifted his gaze when Denki pushed himself off of his bed and kneeled in the space in front of Hitoshi, carefully taking his face between his hands and wiping away twin falling tears with his thumbs.

"You do," he whispered. "You absolutely do."

He surged forward to kiss his forehead and circle his shoulders. It was a bit awkward, with both of them sitting on the floor, and not entirely comfortable, but Hitoshi tried to shimmy closer all the same.

"I missed this so much," Denki murmured against his neck, his breath making Hitoshi squirm in surprise.

He didn't pull away because of that. No. What made him draw back was the feeling of tears falling down to the collar of his t-shirt.

"Hey..." he breathed out as he kept Denki close to smooth careful fingers under his eyes. "What is it? Are you hurting?"

Denki shook his head no, but kept inching closer to the point where he was all but sitting on top of Hitoshi's crossed legs, suddenly tense again.

"Jirou told me— That there were three Trigger bombs in Japan. Maybe more. In Cairo we only had the one," he explained when his head was secured on top of his shoulder.

Hitoshi swallowed, that same wave of vertigo he'd felt a couple of days ago returning for a second. He tried to get even closer still.

"I feared— I feared we would only manage to deal with ours, there. That I came back and— and you—"

"I'm here," Hitoshi whispered, trusting his words to bring Denki back to the present. "I'm alright."

He curled his hand around the nape of his neck, trying to get him to look at him.

Denki drew back, but tried to hide his face again between his hands.

"Let me," Hitoshi said, then dabbed at Denki's tears with his sleeve when he complied, finishing the job with a peck to his lips for good measure.

"I was scared, too, you know."

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess. I hated to be so far away," Denki finally admitted.

"Guess I'll have to stay by your side, then. So that you can be sure I'm okay."

Denki finally smiled at him— one of his wide, bright ones that seemed to carry voltage within them even without the use of Denki's quirk, then raised his arms to cup Hitoshi's cheeks to give him a deeper kiss.

"That sounds perfect."

"So I'm guessing you don't want me to leave you for the night, huh?"

"Absolutely not. Want to sleep with me?"

Hitoshi drew back, his eyes wide. Denki jerked away, his eyes wider.

"I— I mean like— sleep, sleep. I don't know- I mean, I someday would– but— I'm not really ready for—"

He stopped rambling when Hitoshi's low laugh became audible, making it impossible for him to string his thoughts together.

"Yeah, that would be nice."

He was still blushing when he removed his hand from his face, and Denki beamed, triggered by Hitoshi's expression the same way lightning bolts soar through the sky once they find a place to discharge.

"Alright, then!" he giggled, standing up.

"So, how do you want to do this?" Hitoshi asked as he got up as well.

Denki simply pulled back the covers and laid down on his back, facing the ceiling and extending his arms towards Hitoshi, making a grabbing motion.

"Jet lag is messing me up," Denki said, beckoning Hitoshi closer, "so just come here and cuddle me to help me sleep better, you gorgeous worrywart, perfect weighted blanket, you big purple kitt— Ooff!"

His breath left him in a heavy sigh, as Hitoshi did just that, easing himself on top of him far more gently than his loud sigh would have given away, yet feeling a bit self-conscious. Was Denki uncomfortable? Would he manage to fall asleep? Was he too heavy for him?

"Hell yeah," Denki exhaled, reaching to drape the covers over them both and wrapping his arms across Hitoshi's back once he was done.

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not. This is the best day of my life," Denki continued, voice still a bit airy.

Once he was sure he wasn't hurting him, Hitoshi shimmied a bit down to get more comfortable, shifting sideways so that Denki's knees didn't dig into his legs, and thus ending with his head on top of Denki's shoulder, Denki's legs hugging the one he had between them.

He could easily fall asleep like this, warm and cosy, closing his eyes so that he could focus on the weight of Denki's arms across his back, the puffs of breath across his hair, the rise and fall of Denki's chest and—

"Your heart is beating very fast," he pointed out.

"Well, duh. Have some mercy."

"It's just me, I'm doing nothing," he whispered, rising up on his forearms to look into Denki's eyes.

Denki smiled, a quiet, small thing, and brought up his hand to caress Hitoshi's cheek.

"There's nothing 'just' about you, Toshi."

Hitoshi hid his face in the crook between Denki's neck and shoulder, wriggling a bit in his hold.

"It's true! I really mean it!"

"You’re a sap."

"And you love me."

"Yeah. Yes, I do," Hitoshi confirmed, and after Denki kissed him again on his temple no more words were spoken that night.

Denki woke up once, afterwards. Jet lag and the troubles with their flight messing with his usual sleeping hours and making him think it was already in the morning. He didn't mind it. Hitoshi's warm weight remained on top of him and the only movement he needed to make was bring one of his hands up to bury his fingers in his hair, scratching rhythmically until his boyfriend's quiet breathing lulled him back to sleep.