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So, it happened again and Shouta…
Well, Shouta was just over it at this point, honestly.
Well, maybe not over it, but definitely more exhausted than usual.
Although Midoriya recovered surprisingly fast from his moment as a toddler two weeks ago, Shouta was still thrown off by the whole experience—they all somewhat were. The rational side of him knew it was because Midoriya’s regression was unlike any of the villain attacks that occurred with 1-A in that, despite one of his students being vulnerable, there wasn’t someone to attack once he protected his student. In this case, there was just detention for the General Studies student, and working with All Might to take care of the wailing shrub until he returned to his teenage self.
Shouta learned that toddlers were a lot more work than he expected, and he had gaps in his childcare abilities. Eri was the closest experience he’d had to caring for a young child before Midoriya’s shift—but she definitely wasn’t the age of a baby or toddler when they’d saved her. She was six and turned seven just after he and Mic adopted her, and Shouta could easily manage kids ages six and up. But Midoriya taught him something about himself, as Midoriya somehow always managed to do: Shouta couldn’t understand the random moments of irrationality toddlers sometimes had. If it wasn’t for Hizashi and All Might, he would’ve been stuck with an unhappy baby Midoriya. (He’d honestly never been so happy for the kid’s obsession with the previous Number One hero, but he’d never say that to Toshinori out loud.)
Speaking of the Symbol of Peace, All Might seemed to bounce back from the shock of his protégé’s regression and the task of caring for Izuku in his toddler state. The two got along well, and Midnight even managed to take an admittedly adorable photo of them together, which now proudly sat in a frame on Toshinori’s desk and also served as the lock screen on his phone.
The Problem Child seemed fine as well after everything—besides being a little shaken up and embarrassed by the whole ordeal. He was only just now able to look Aizawa in the eye this past Thursday, and he’d even gone through the trouble of writing both him and All Might each three-page long letters apologizing for putting them in a position where they had to care for him as a baby and everything it entailed. (The page apologizing for puking up octopus-shaped hot dogs from a bento all over Aizawa’s sleeping bag will be forever etched in his mind along with the memory of the incident itself.)
With all of this now behind him, Shouta thought he’d managed to successfully clear another Class 1-A hurdle.
He should have known it wouldn’t be that simple. (Luck always had been particularly fickle toward him.)
Shouta followed Cementoss down the hall to where the students managed to gather so they could break up what he thought was a fight. Instead, he noticed a child on the floor surrounded by students and the General Studies student with the regression quirk.
It happened again.
It happened again, and all Shouta could do was hope it wasn’t Bakugo or someone else from 1-A.
He opened his mouth to tell the spectating students to go back to class when he managed to get a better look at the kid on the floor in the middle of the huddle.
A kid whose face was barely visible under shaggy and flipped strands of purple that looked a little too similar to the time Shirakumo got sick with the flu and his cloud-like hair turned a stormy lilac.
A toddler with dark crescents of exhaustion under his eyes that were way too heavy for his age.
A boy in a diaper, a plain long-sleeve romper, and socks all similar to the clothes Midoriya wore when he was regressed—the one convenient courtesy offered by an inconvenient quirk.
A kid who took one look at Shouta and raised his arms.
Shouta froze.
No. No.
Not him.
He’d take this happening to Bakugo—hell, even Midoriya again—every day, over him. But of course, Shouta didn’t have that kind of luck. The fact that this happened to a 1-A student he didn’t have a de-aging quirk contingency plan for proved that much.
Shouta continued to stare at the toddler, the realization that the student impacted by the quirk was none other than Hitoshi Shinsou washing over him faster than the color drained from his face.
Shit.
He didn’t have time to think about how close this was to Midoriya’s incident or consider how ill-prepared he was to care for Hitoshi in this state. That would all come later when he wasn’t in crisis mode, when he was able to actually process what just happened. But right now…
Right now, he needed to address the immediate situation at hand.
He took a deep breath.
What happened next was a blur. All at once, he broke eye contact with his son, looked at the student with the age regression quirk, and activated his erasure quicker than he ever managed before.
The chatter and mutters around him became muffled, then silenced. He later realized it was thanks to Cementoss that the remaining students dispersed.
“Eraser, I’ve got Tanabe.” Thirteen’s voice caught his attention. “You can stop now.”
Shouta felt his hair settle around his shoulders. “Thanks, Kurose and Ishiyama.”
He turned his attention to Shinsou. His son sat unmoved on the floor, his arms still extended. Now that he had his dad’s attention again, Shinsou silently opened and closed his hands. Shouta blinked to clear the dryness from his eyes.
So, he hadn't imagined this whole thing. Hitoshi really was a toddler now.
Shinsou tilted his head to one side, and he didn’t have to say it for Shouta to understand the Dad, please? radiating from his toddler-ized son.
Shouta scooped him up along with his uniform. “C’mon, kid. I’ve gotcha.”
Somehow between the walk toward Nezu’s office with Cementoss, Thirteen, and the student responsible, Shouta managed to strap Shinsou against his chest with his capture cloth. He’d like to say it was the first time he’d used it as a baby carrier, but it wasn’t. At least this time, he didn’t have to struggle the way he had to with Midoriya. Hitoshi clung to him not unlike a koala, with a grip to match, which made wrapping the cloth around his tiny toddler form that much easier.
“It’s okay,” said Shouta, managing to tie the end of the cloth near his hip. “You’re okay…and if you’re not, you will be okay.”
Shinsou looked skeptical.
Hitoshi got hit with the de-aging quirk.
Hitoshi, his once teenage son, was now a toddler.
Your son is a toddler.
Hitoshi is a toddler.
Shouta had to keep repeating it to himself because, if he didn’t, he’d think this was just a really wild dream, like the ones brought on by that night four years ago when Midnight and Mic convinced him to drink Mirko branded sake chased with too many shots of Edgeshot’s whiskey.
Hitoshi, his son—or rather, his and Hizashi’s because they adopted him, and it was finalized almost three months ago when he was a teenager—was a toddler.
The underground pro looked at his son’s uniform in his hand. The clothes were no doubt part of the laundry he’d washed, folded, and brought to Shinsou’s dorm in a neat stack in one of the color-coded baskets he used to organize his kids' laundry. Purple for Hitoshi, red for Eri. He'd needed his extra uniforms from his room in their UA Staff family apartment since he was only half-moved into his Class 1-A dorm. Shouta prepared a basket of his clothes for him while Mic helped him move boxes of his favorite items.
But Shinsou’s progress with joining Class 1-A didn’t matter now, because he’d be back in the apartment with Shouta and Hizashi until he…well…grew up.
Shouta turned his attention to the wide purple eyes gazing up at him. He placed a reassuring hand on Hitoshi’s head and murmured, “Don’t worry. I’ve gotcha.”
If what happened before felt like it occurred in a haze, then what happened next was like walking through pure fog.
As Hitoshi cowered in the makeshift capture cloth baby carrier, his face pressed against Shouta’s chest, Shouta could feel his tiny fingers curl around the fabric of his shirt, grasping onto him as if he were his lifeline. It was enough to make the underground hero want to scream and curse and expel everyone for real. Instead, he stood in Nezu’s office, where he learned that Hitoshi’s regression was an act of revenge.
The student responsible wasn’t happy that Shinsou made it into the hero course with 1-A. Apparently, beyond annoyed that someone with a ‘villainous’ quirk got a chance to be a hero, he attempted “to take him down a few pegs”.
Shouta took his regressed son and left after that because he was honestly too upset to hear much more, and he needed to rationally figure out what to do next.
Hitoshi remained miraculously—read, disturbingly—silent the entire time, his expression as emotionless as ever. He held on to Shouta with one hand, the thumb of his other hand tucked in his mouth, and didn’t make a sound. It worried the pro hero, especially given how vocal Midoriya was when this happened to him, but he would address that later because he didn’t have time to analyze Hitoshi’s behavior.
He needed to find Hizashi first.
He took off down the hall. As he slowed to glance at the clock, a soft sniffle made him stop. He looked down in time to see a tear running along the curve of Hitoshi’s rounded cheek. The amount of relief that flowed through him the moment he noticed Hitoshi crying nearly unnerved him as he patted his son’s back and whispered reassurances into his hair.
“It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve gotcha. It’s okay.” Realizing that something could actually be wrong, Shouta sucked in a breath and looked his son over in alarm. “Hitoshi, are you okay? Are you hurt? What’s wrong?”
Hitoshi stared back and whimpered. “Dada…”
The air left him. Hitoshi’s first word as a toddler came out so broken that it hit him harder than a slap. Yet, as much as it pained him to hear Hitoshi this upset, Shouta found himself relieved he finally spoke and a bit more calm knowing for certain he remembered Shouta was his dad. He pulled his sleeve down and wiped at the next round of tears running down his son’s face. “I’m here. It’ll be okay.”
The purple-haired toddler hiccuped and sniffled. “Dada… I want Papa, too.”
“I know. We’re gonna find him together, okay?”
Hitoshi nodded his head once, and a familiar expression passed across his features. Shouta recognized it as the one he typically wore as a teen during his training sessions—part frustrated, part determined. Hitoshi curled his fingers around the capture weapon. His bottom lip wobbled.
“I’ll get you to Mic.” Shouta checked the clock again. “I promise.”
It was the middle of third period, which meant Hizashi was likely teaching 1-B or 2-A—wait. Was it a practice exercise day? Shit, it was. Which meant two things. First, the strategy exercise he intended to go over with 1-A would have to wait. Second, that Hizashi would likely be in the middle of his planning period.
Shouta continued down the hall. He really, really needed to get to his husband.
He found his husband in the (thankfully) empty staff room looking over essays. Hizashi looked up for a second, long enough to see it was his husband trudging toward him, then returned to circling the tip of a red pen over parts of a sentence.
“Hey, Shou.” His hand stopped mid-circle. He looked up. His triangular tinted glasses sat beside him, and his regular rectangular pair sat on the bridge of his nose. “Wait, I thought you were supposed to be doing training exercises with 1-A right now?”
Shouta watched Hizashi’s eyes fall on the messy tufts of light violet and the capture cloth baby carrier.
“Shou…”
“He’s ours.”
Hizashi let out a scoff, then rubbed his eyes. “Honey… Shouta, I love you, and I love that you care about kids and adults and everyone, but we can’t.” He frowned. “I’m sorry, but we really can’t, and...like, we totally talked about this a few weeks ago and decided we won’t adopt a third because can’t take on another kid right now. And a baby is a lot of work, and we don’t have the bandwidth. Between work and hero work, we won’t be able to distribute our time to them the way we do for Eri and Toshi. It so wouldn’t be fair to them.
“Plus, Eri and Toshi are settled and acclimated in a rhythm, and Eri’s finally getting fewer headaches—heck, Toshi’s getting fewer migraines now too, so we’re having fewer appointments at the quirk specialist’s. Toshi’s adoption’s finalized, and he’s finally feeling solid and comfortable asking for things and treating us like his parents. Eri’s super content too and her nightmares are easing, so she’s not co-sleeping as often. We can’t adopt a baby right now, Shou. We agreed that if we changed our minds, and did decide we wanted another, that any more adoptions would have to wait a few months—though you said until 1-A graduates.”
“Yeah, I did. We agreed, and I have no plans to adopt anyone else right now.” Shouta blinked. “Toshi and Eri are it for me right now.”
“But you said this baby is ours? Toshi and Eri aren’t babies—last I checked, anyway.”
Shouta kept his mouth shut because he knew the situation would hit Hizashi once he realized it. Usually, he connected the dots faster than this. It was then he noticed the slight hint of cover-up under his husband’s eyes no doubt hiding the signs of fatigue. Ah, no wonder. It was a Friday, and typically Hizashi used this period to nap since his radio show started at 5 AM, and he woke up around 1 AM those nights—that is if he opted to go to bed at all. He typically needed a recharge before finishing the day since he usually came to UA from the station unless he decided to go home for an hour or so of sleep first. Shouta knew his husband didn't go to bed last night because they stayed up until he went to the station, and Hizashi didn't go home before coming to UA. He would make him rest as soon as they got home and Hitoshi got settled. Shouta noticed the cup of tea with some honey still in the bottom.
So his husband was lacking sleep and he’d overused his voice today—
“Shouta.” Hizashi’s sigh snapped his attention back. “Shou, seriously, wh—oh.”
And Hizashi, being Hizashi, literally shouted in alarm. His eyes grew wide. The windows rattled slightly. The teacup vibrated against the table and threatened to spill.
There it was.
Shouta would’ve smiled if he weren’t so on edge and if Hitoshi—who was scared by the sound—hadn’t been sent into even more tears. The tears weren’t wails like Midoriya’s. (And thank fuck for that, thought Shouta, but also, what the fuck. He’d have to process the reasons for that, which likely had to do with Hitoshi’s traumas, later.). Instead, Hitoshi cried in silent sobs, his body shaking against him with each breath.
“You’re okay,” said Shouta. “Hitoshi, it’ll be okay.”
It seemed that once Hitoshi started crying, he didn’t want to stop. He sobbed against Shouta’s chest and managed to nestle himself further under part of his capture cloth, the occasional whine and whimper working its way to the surface. Still, he was much quieter than Midoriya had been, so Shouta couldn’t and wouldn’t complain.
“I’M SORRY, I’M SORRY, I’M sorry,” said Hizashi as he rapidly lowered his volume. Once he adjusted his voice to just above speaking volume, he tried again. “Shouta, what—!”
Hitoshi gave a low whine and brought his hands up to cover his ears while shaking his head. “Papa loud…”
“Yikes! I’m sorry, ‘Toshi. Wait—HOLY SMOKES! That’s ‘Toshi?!”
Shouta sent an apologetic look his way. “Can you go maybe a few notches lower, Mic?”
“No sweat.” Hizashi tried again, this time speaking below his usual volume but a little higher than a whisper. “How’s this?”
Hitoshi hesitated, then lowered his hands. Shouta nodded. “That’s better.”
“Good. Sorry, lil’ listener. Now,” Hizashi sighed and sat back on the couch, “Shouta, what…what happened?”
“This kid I’m holding? It’s Shinsou. He got hit with that quirk, and now he’s,” Shouta gestured with a tilt of his head at their son, “y’know, a toddler. It happened in the hall, I guess? I don’t really know. I just know I saw a crowd of students, went to break them up, and he was sitting in a pile of his clothes.”
“… What?”
Shouta passed the bundle of Hitoshi’s clothes to Mic, whose eyes widened as he took them. “Yeah, my reaction exactly.”
“How? I mean, I know he called me Papa and that kid definitely looks like him, but…. Okay, rewind and playback. I wanna make sure I’m singing on-key here. Shou, you’re seriously tellin’ me…” Hizashi leaned forward, rested an elbow on his knee, and pointed at the bundle currently wrapped in the capture scarf wrapped around Shouta’s chest, “this little listener’s Hitoshi?”
“Yeah.” Shouta sighed through his nose and glanced down at the soft locks nestled under his chin. Thick aubergine wisps shifted back to reveal matching eyes that blinked twice at him under thin eyebrows, then went back to focusing on the capture cloth. “He’s…yeah…this is ‘Toshi.”
Hizashi gave a short laugh, one that Shouta knew was the precursor to his husband truly panicking. Judging by the shock working its way across his expression, Shouta figured it would happen soon. “This has to… I don’t know, be some joke? Is this payback because I didn’t clean the shower drain when it was my turn? Because I did it a few days later and—”
“You know I wouldn’t do any of that, and it’s too close to what happened with Midoriya for me to logically be joking. Besides, does it really look like I’m joking?” Shouta glared. “Look at my face, and look at our son, and then tell me again that I’m joking.”
“That’s Hitoshi…” Hizashi whispered, eyes wide in shock. He brought a hand to his chest and let out a shaky breath. “That’s Hitoshi…gods, my heart is beating louder than an 808. I can’t believe that’s him… I mean, I can but…”
“Mic, you need to breathe.”
“’M’tryin'.” Hizashi sat back against the cushions, eyes wide, lips parted. It’d been a while since he’d been stunned into silence. Shouta couldn’t really blame his husband; he was still trying to get his head around the situation himself, and he was the one literally holding the proof. “That’s… Hitoshi. Wow, that’s…how’d it happen again?”
“Same way as Midoriya.” Shouta looked back down at Hitoshi, who was busy sticking his thumb in his mouth and looking up and around at his surroundings. “The age quirk—”
“From Tanabe in General Studies?”
“That’s the one.”
“Is…is there a reason he keeps doing this to your students? This can’t be a coincidence.”
“That’s what I initially thought, too.”
“But?”
“But it turns out regressing Midoriya was actually an accident, and Shinsou was the only one he unleashed his quirk on purposefully,” said Shouta. He tried to ignore the way Hitoshi started to watch him intently. The kid was clearly listening now so he needed to be careful about what he heard. “Tanabe admitted that during the conversation in Nezu’s office following the incident. He didn’t like that Hitoshi got to do the training exercise with 1-B as his test and now that he’s earned a place in 1-A…you can guess.”
“That’s so messed up! So, you’ll tell me more about what happened and what Nezu said later when he’s having a na—” Hizashi glanced at their son. Not wanting to find out if Hitoshi was the type of toddler to get upset at the idea of an upcoming nap time, or further stress him out, he decided to briefly switch to English and spelling. “When he’s taking a n-a-p?”
Shouta nodded and followed. “Yeah, or after bed—I mean, b-e-d-t-i-m-e.”
“Got it!”
They didn’t discuss other students and typically didn’t mention certain aspects of their teaching jobs (or even their hero work for that matter) while Hitoshi and Eri were present. It started when they adopted Eri since she was too young to hear some matters and they wanted to avoid making her overwhelmed or scared. Once they took in Hitoshi and started the process for his adoption, he and Hizashi kept some of the more serious work talk between them. If the matter was serious and impacted the whole family, they would talk to Hitoshi and, if it was a significant or deeply critical situation, they’d find a way to explain it to Eri.
Speaking of Eri, Shouta knew they’d have to talk to her about why her big brother would be her little brother for a while. But that was a bridge they’d cross later.
“Well,” Hizashi sighed, “at least we know what to expect this time. Even if it is sudden and…wow.” He rubbed his eyes. “Wow.”
“I know. I also know that the student responsible isn’t in my class, but I’m very close to suggesting he be expelled and not just on paper.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“You’re right, I don’t, but I sort of do. I’m just frustrated that this has happened more than once to one of my students, Hizashi.”
“Nezu will handle it. He probably already handled it, to be honest.”
“He did, I just…” It was Shouta’s turn to sigh. He was so tired. “Midoriya was one thing—not that the Problem Child being regressed was any more okay than Hitoshi—but our son becoming a toddler again the same way Midoriya was? It’s really not okay.”
“Look on the bright side, at least Eri will have someone kinda new to play with for a while.”
“Yeah. She’ll be worried, but she’ll be okay.” Shouta stopped pacing, the stress from the last couple of hours and the fatigue of the day catching up to him. He placed his hands over Hitoshi’s ears and whispered a weary, “Shit.” The toddler immediately looked up at him. Shouta’s almost choked on his breath. Without removing his hands, he asked, “Did you hear that, Hitoshi?”
Hitoshi squinted at Shouta’s mouth, then shook his head and went back to examining the buttons on his onesie.
Shouta sighed. “Oh, thank fuck.”
“Lip-reading,” said Hizashi. “Interesting. I mean, like, I know he can, y’know, but I didn’t think he was doing it that early. Then again it started at his first foster home, and that was when he was…what, like, two, right?”
“Yeah. He developed that coping mechanism early.” Shouta frowned, thinking about the foster families who didn’t speak to Hitoshi and who went out of their way to avoid verbal communication with him or around him. “He’s been adjusting so well with us, I nearly forgot he had that ability.”
“He looks about that age, too.”
Shouta dropped his hands from Shinsou’s ears. “Sorry, kid, I said a bad word and didn’t want you to hear.”
Hizashi snorted. “Funny, considering it’s one of teenage Hitoshi’s favorite words, and you’re the one who lets him use it.”
“Only because he can be trusted not to say it around Eri. Then again, Bakugo screams it loud enough around campus, I swear she’s going to pick up on it regardless.” Shouta tucked his hands under the toddler’s armpits, quickly lifting him from the capture cloth. Hitoshi protested with a glare that dissolved into his usual passive expression once Shouta started carrying him on his hip. With Shinsou content and able to see more of the space around him, Shouta looked over at his husband. “You sound more mellow about this. Feeling better, ‘Zashi?”
“Who me?” Hizashi grinned. “Yeah. Just shocked me for a bit, that’s all, but I’m rockin’ now! But how are you? I’m sure you haven’t had the time to digest everything.”
“I’m fine.”
Hizashi lifted an eyebrow, and Shouta knew he could see right through him. “Here,” the vocal-quirked hero held out his hands for their son, “I’ll hold him a bit, so you can try to relax.”
Shouta hesitated. At this point, he was too afraid of letting go, thanks to an irrational side of him that screamed about how something else would happen if he let Hitoshi out of his protection.
An irrational thought that Hizashi seemed to be able to read. “Sho, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not, Hizashi. Our son is a child.”
“I mean, he kinda already was, he’s just a teen, and they’re children—” he grew quiet at the glare his partner aimed his way. “Never mind, just….” he sighed, “Sho, can I hold ‘Toshi? I mean, if the quirk was anything like what happened with Midoriya, you’re gonna have a lot of time to hold him like this. Besides, he’s already been de-aged, and he’s already cried, so, really, the worst has already happened.”
Shouta found it hard to agree with that last part because if there was anything teaching Class 1-A had taught him, it was that it could always absolutely get substantially worse—and in ways he couldn’t even imagine.
“Plus, you’re looking stressed. With the way Toshi picks up on emotions, he’s gonna pick up on that and start singing the same tune. I’ll hold him while you pace and get some of that anxiety out.” Hizashi brought his hands up to his collar and began the process of taking off his directional speaker. Once it was removed and on the cushions beside him, he slid off his jacket, tossed it on top of his support device, and got to his feet to bridge the distance between them with his hands outstretched. “Here, I’m ready, and I got him, Sho. Besides, ‘Toshi’s already shown us his style is more classical piano compared to Midoriya’s heavy screamo, so getting him calm might not be too much of an issue. We’ve just gotta get you mellow, so we can all figure out what to do next.”
His partner knew him too well, and he had a point. One look at Shinsou, and it was clear he was starting to match his stress level. As Shouta passed him to Hizashi, the toddler whined at the loss of contact with him.
“Hi, little listener! Ready to go with Papa for a while? C’mon, Hitoshi,” said Hizashi, picking him up from his husband’s hands, “up we go! Hi, ‘Toshi. Hi, honey. Papa’s gotcha.”
Hizashi brought their son to his shoulder while humming a melody Shouta had heard him sing while braiding Eri’s hair a few days ago. Slight relief started to unfurl in the underground hero’s chest like pearls of jasmine in a teapot. It would be fine. He and Hizashi would figure it out and Hitoshi would be okay while they waited for him to become a teenager again.
Hizashi rubbed Shinsou’s back as he swayed from side to side, replicating the movement that seemed to calm a certain green-haired student barely two weeks before. Their son yawned. With his husband soothing their son, Shouta began his walk toward the middle of the room to pace the full length of the floor.
“Shou?”
The perpetually exhausted pro hero gave an acknowledging hum.
“Maybe I’m overreacting, but he’s lighter than Izu—”
“Daddy,” whined Hitoshi. And Shouta took in a breath so fragmented it was as though someone shoved a fist in his solar plexus. Hitoshi twisted to the side, leaning forward with his arms extended toward him, opening and closing his hands while kicking tiny feet against Hizashi’s stomach. “Daddy!”
“It’ll be okay, kid,” Shouta began. “You’re going to—”
Hitoshi let out a panicked scream that startled both men and hiccuped through a sob. Mic’s eyes widened while Shouta’s chest tightened.
“Well then,” said Hizashi, “I didn’t know he had it in him.”
Their son screamed again, this time louder than the first.
“Whoa! Someone’s tryin’ to be a mini Mic, I guess.”
“Hitoshi,” Shouta pressed, “please stop screaming. You’re just going to be held by Papa for a while. I’ll be right here, I’m not leaving you—”
“No!” The toddler remained unconvinced, thrashing in his other parent’s arms, tears welling up in his terrified eyes. “Papaaaaa!” He tapped his hand against Hizashi’s shoulder, then pointed at Shouta. “Papaaaa! Want Daddy!”
“Hitoshi, please. I know you want me to hold you, but I need a few moments. Papa’s gonna hold you while I stay right here. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’m just gonna pace right here for a bit, okay?”
Hitoshi seemed to consider this and looked at his second dad. “Papa,” he brought his hands to his watering eyes and rubbed at them. “Papa… Dada.”
“I know,” Hizashi cooed, “but he needs a moment, so I’m going to hold you instead.”
“But… Daddy…”
Hizashi sighed. “Sho, I don’t think either of us is gonna be able to convince him.”
“‘Toshi, please,” said Shouta through a huff. He watched purple eyes lower and softened his tone. “I’m sorry, Hitoshi. I didn’t mean to snap. Is there a reason you don’t want Papa to hold you?”
The toddler sniffled and mumbled just under his earshot. Hizashi, on the other hand, understood everything and nodded with a quiet, “Ah. I see.”
“What’d he say?”
“He said…‘don’t want Daddy go’. He doesn’t want you to go away.” Hizashi shifted his attention back to their son, who rested his head against his shoulder, and tried to calm him. “Oh, honey. It’s okay….” He placed a hand on the toddler’s back and shot a glance at his husband. “He’s shaking, Shou.”
Shouta’s stomach clenched. How could he have forgotten? He was so wrapped up in sorting through the logistics of everything that he hadn’t considered that Hitoshi was two when his first foster parents brought him to a playground, left while he played in the sandbox, and just…never came back.
Not to mention the families who, as soon as they found out what his quirk was, decided it was easier to abandon him, neglect him, or have him sent to another family. The thought of that happening to his son always made Shouta angry, but Hitoshi told Shouta not to think too much about it. He’d said that while it wasn’t okay at all, it wasn’t a big deal because he’d gotten used to it. He remembered how the teen rubbed the back of his neck and rocked his bottle of tea on its base against the ground as he described some of the things he’d experienced. Shouta remembered Hitoshi said that he just started expecting that kind of treatment from his foster families. They always wound up doing something to reject him, so it was best if he just prepared himself and anticipated the worst. It hurt Shouta’s heart, and he made it clear during the adoption process that he and Hizashi would never repeat the cruel actions of his past families.
And now, here he was scaring Hitoshi into thinking he was being abandoned and he was breaking his trust.
Promising Hitoshi that he wasn’t going to leave while stepping a few steps away would be fine for Hitoshi as a teenager or even as a little kid, but it certainly wasn’t going to work for him as a toddler. With guilt heavy in his gut, Shouta moved across the room to stand beside Hizashi, who pressed a kiss to Hitoshi’s cheek. The toddler snuggled against his papa and let out another set of watery murmurs. The sight broke Shouta’s heart.
Hizashi gently shushed their son and continued to hold him close. “Oh, honey…he’s not going anywhere. I promise. Are you worried if Papa holds you, that Daddy will go away, and he won’t come back?”
Their son gave two strong nods, his mess of lilac strands shifting back and forth.
“‘Toshi, he’s not going anywhere and Papa’s gonna make sure he doesn’t, okay?”
Hitoshi gave a watery mumble.
“I know, and I promise he’s not going anywhere.”
Shouta brushed back his son’s hair with two gentle swipes of his fingers. “Hitoshi, I’m right here.” He placed his hand on top of his husband’s on their son’s back. “Hitoshi, I’m sorry I scared you and made you think I was going away. I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to stay very close and promise I will hold you again in a moment. I just need to pace for a few minutes, and I will pick you up again, okay? I promise I’m not leaving you or this room. Do you trust me to keep that promise?” The lack of certainty and fear on Shinsou’s face hurt Shouta more than the reason for the scar below his own eye. “Hitoshi, look at me.”
Hitoshi did, his lower lip wobbling through another sniffle.
“I will not leave you. The last thing I would ever do is leave you. You’re my son, you’re our son, and Papa and I would never leave you or let each other leave you, okay?” As Hitoshi considered this, Shouta decided to add a little more reassurance for good measure. Rationally, a day would come when they’d have no choice but to physically leave him, but Shouta pushed away that morbid train of thought. That would make it worse for Shinsou—and all of them, really. So instead, he wiped under Hitoshi’s eyes and said, “I know it seems like I’m far away, but I’m right here. I’ll stay where you can see me, and I’m not leaving the room. Then, when I’m finished pacing, I’ll hold you again.”
“And hug.”
Shouta smiled. “And hug, and hold, and give you all the attention you want. Does that help make it a little better?”
The toddler nodded.
“Good.” Shouta kissed Hitoshi’s cheek and earned a small smile and a giggle in return.
“That tickles, Daddy!”
Hizashi cupped Shouta’s cheek. “Ooh! He’s right.” He ran his thumb against the short hairs along his husband’s jawline and chuckled. “You are a bit more stubbly than usual today.”
“Shush,” said Shouta. He granted his husband a quick kiss, then headed back across the room to pace. “Besides,” he added over his shoulder, “we both know you like it.”
“That I do!”
Shouta began to pace, his mind combing through the details of the morning. He ran his hands over his face and then down his neck until he stopped them at the start of his shoulders. Another deep sigh rumbled from him. He dug his fingers into the knots at the base of the back of his neck and turned on his heel, walking back to the other end of the pacing path he’d started.
“Okay, Shouta.” Hizashi began. “I—”
“Papa!” Hitoshi piped. Shouta turned his attention over to his son in time to see him wrap his arms around Hizashi’s neck. “Papa….”
“Yeah, lil’ half note?”
“Papa, back pat…pease.”
“Anything, little listener.”
Hitoshi gave a contented giggle at the nickname and nuzzled his cheek against Hizashi’s shoulder so he could watch his other dad pace. Hizashi placed gentle pats against his back.
Shouta rubbed his eyes. “Zashi?”
Hizashi looked up from their son. “Yeah?”
“To go back to what you were saying earlier, I noticed it too. He’s much lighter than Midoriya was, and it wasn’t like Izuku was even heavy. It’s… Hitoshi’s underweight and I’m starting to think that when that student’s quirk regresses people, it keeps parts of their current consciousness while—”
“—regressing them with accuracy to aspects of themselves at that age? Yeah, that’s what I was thinkin’ too. Like how Midoriya only wanted to wear the All Might-themed clothes Toshinori got him, but then he also saw him without his All Might brawn and remembered that mentor bond they have from his teen life. But he still called him dad because All Might has always been that important to him. I haven’t read up on Tanabe’s quirk, but yeah, that’s gotta be part of it.”
“And now with Hitoshi…it’s the fact that he was underweight from being starved by his first foster family, and crying when he thought I was leaving forever, but still having the knowledge that we’re his parents.”
“Sho, I worry about what else could come up for him. When he was this age, he got his quirk, and that’s when…everything started. I’m glad we have him right now, that he’s not back there. I’m glad he has us now, and we can protect him.”
Shouta nodded.
“Okay,” Hizashi began, his volume toeing the line of a whisper, “so how are we gonna do this? I can take him for the rest of the school day while you go back to classes, unless you want to stay with him. Since I was going to have everyone work on peer reviewing essays, All Might or someone else can sit in my classes and oversee that—though, I’m sure the class reps can do the heavy lifting there to make sure everyone’s on task. We can both head home together and sort things out if we can get Nemuri to cover for you.”
“Already handled. Nezu has our classes covered for the rest of the day. He offered the rest of the week, but I don’t think it’s necessary.”
“Well, that’s good. Y’know, it was one thing when it was Midoriya, but it’s Hitoshi this time, and I… I don’t know, Sho, but I’m…there’s like a fire in my chest. Not like when I’m protecting civilians from villains but like when we adopted Toshi and Eri, like…”
“I know what you mean.”
“I think maybe I’m feeling extra overprotective? Like, Midoriya was my student, so it was different, but Hitoshi’s our son and our student, and this happening… I guess I feel like a papa bear.” Hizashi scoffed. He rested his hand on the back of Hitoshi’s head protectively and slowly sat back down on the couch. “I don’t want anything happening to our son. While this quirk is virtually harmless in that he’s not injured or really incapacitated apart from being a child again, I still feel like something awful happened, and I don’t want anything else happening to him. I want him safe, and I want us around him at all times. Is this how you feel when something happens to 1-A? Like a ten out of ten on the scale?”
“Every single time. Honestly, it’s a fifteen out of ten, easily. Sometimes a twenty out of ten, depending on the student.”
“I think I can guess the ones who make your parental anxiety sing at a twenty.” Hizashi looked up in thought. “Let’s see Midoriya, obviously. Bakugo…and probably Todoroki, too.”
Shouta couldn’t do anything but nod. Again, Hizashi knew him too well.
“Yeah, I thought so.”
“When it comes to Eri and Hitoshi, that twenty is easily pushed to a thirty. It’s why I couldn’t let Hitoshi go earlier and why I’m pacing right now. The adrenaline and the parental instincts make a hell of a combination.” Shouta stretched his arms. “Usually, there’s something to fight to get the frustration out.”
“And this time there’s not. 1-A’s at the training grounds later, right? Maybe you can do some training with them to get it out.”
“I’ve honestly considered it.”
“Sho, is Hitoshi asleep?”
Shouta stopped pacing and walked toward him, tilting his head slightly to get a better look at their son. Hitoshi’s eyes were shut, his thumb half in his mouth, his body limp against Hizashi’s shoulder. He chuckled. “Yeah. He’s out.”
Hizashi made a sound. “Interesting.”
“What is it?”
“Nothing it’s just… I think it’s interesting that ‘Toshi’s tired. Y’know, because Midoriya wanted to sleep after he was de-aged, too. I mean, he had a meltdown first, yeah, but he complained about being tired.”
Shouta’s eyes widened. Midoriya’s wails would forever echo in the back caverns of his mind and, along with them, his behavior after All Might arrived.
The eye rubbing that was Midoriya’s small (and admittedly adorable) way of mentioning his fatigue to the Symbol of Peace. The way he nuzzled himself into the pro hero and refused to leave him for the duration of his regression. Even the violent screams when Toshinori needed to excuse himself to use the bathroom were etched into his memory.
He’d thought it was because Midoriya tired himself out with all his crying, but perhaps it was more than that.
“I’m wondering if it had anything to do with the quirk and the strain it puts on the body. Hitoshi’s tired a lot, but this feels different.”
“Definitely part of the quirk.” Shouta agreed, sitting on the coffee table across from Hizashi. “I really need to read up on Tanabe’s quirk in case he tries to regress anyone else in 1-A on purpose.”
“I don’t think Tanabe’s gonna be regressing anyone maliciously anymore.”
“I hope he doesn’t again.” Shouta slouched and leaned his elbows on his knees. “But you’re right, Nezu will handle it.”
“Shouta, I know I keep sayin’ it but, are you okay?”
“Huh?”
“With all of this,” said Hizashi, waving his hand in a circle. “Y’know? This last hour’s made for a long morning, so, y’know, you good?”
His husband was way too in tune with his perceptiveness today. Shouta looked at Hitoshi’s sleeping form and let out a breath that was his umpteenth sigh of the day.
Hizashi rested his cheek against Hitoshi’s head. “Sho, spill it. Lay it on me.”
“It’s like… I feel helpless. Nezu’s handling Tanabe, and there’s nothing I can do to help Hitoshi other than wait for him to…grow up. I feel like I need to fix it and I don’t know what I can do to make it better, to help.” Shouta brought his hand under his bangs and touched his forehead. A few grounding breaths later, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I should’ve… I don’t know…”
“Well, wait, hang on for a sec. What is there to fix?” asked Hizashi. “I mean, yeah, Hitoshi’s a toddler and that’s not ideal, but what is there to fix? Other than being a toddler, he’s okay and unharmed. We’ll have to wait for him to grow out of the quirk, but there’s nothing to fix, and the only way we can help is by doing what we’ve been doing: raising him the best we can.”
“But Eri—”
“—will be happy to have a little brother to play with for a while. Though I kinda worry that she’ll want to try to use her quirk to help, and I don’t want her stressing herself out.”
“I worry about that too.”
Shouta grew quiet for a moment. There was one more thing that weighed on him, and he wasn’t sure how to bring it up or what to say. He looked at Hitoshi again, watching his tiny nose flare slightly with each breath as he sucked his thumb in his sleep. The deep bags under his eyes looked a little smaller. Shouta couldn’t stop himself from reaching forward and running his hand through Hitoshi’s impossibly soft hair. He let his hand fall.
“Zashi?”
“Yeah?”
“They wanted to give him quirk suppressants.”
“What?” Hizashi snapped. “Who?!”
Hitoshi startled awake and whimpered against him. “Papa…loud.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I know. Papa’s sorry.” Mic kissed his son’s cheek and ran his fingers through his hair to soothe him. As Hitoshi whined again and grabbed onto his shirt, Hizashi shushed him. “Oh, my little ‘Sou, I’m sorry, honey. I’ll be quieter.” Once Hitoshi settled back down, Hizashi met eyes with his husband and whisper-yelled. “What? Who wanted to give him quirk suppressants? Names, Eraser, I want names.”
Shouta’s frown deepened. “Hizashi, it’s fine. I mean it’s not fine, but it’s… I addressed it as soon as it was said.”
“You’re damn right, it’s not fine,” Hizashi whisper-snapped. “Why do they want to give him quirk suppressants anyway? Are you kidding me? Oh, I’m so unbelievably upset.”
“I know.” Shouta was used to his husband’s need to rant when he felt strongly about something and knew the best thing to do was to let him say everything before giving input. “I almost didn’t tell you, but I couldn’t keep that bottled in.”
“I’m glad you did because you shouldn’t have to sit with that alone, but also I kinda wish you hadn’t because—ugh, that makes me mad that suppressants even came up. Who said it? You know—no, they all know—how I feel about giving quirk suppressants to people! Unless he’s sick, or he’s hurt and he can’t control his quirk, and it’s actually dangerous if he’s unable to control it, there’s no reason for it.”
“I agree.”
Hizashi took a deep breath and went back to rubbing Hitoshi’s back. His voice settled into a calm whisper. “That stuff’s for, like, when Kaminari had that horrible sinus infection with the flu too and kept causing the electricity to short out and surge every time he sneezed or threw up. Or when Todoroki was getting used to regulating his heat again and had that awful panic attack that made him so run down after that he spiked a fever and couldn’t control his temperature, so he kept risking hypothermia and heat stroke—”
“Yeah, that was…that wasn’t a good night.” Shouta rubbed his temple at the memory. The stress of worrying about his student caused him to have a panic attack of his own a few nights after that. “If it wasn’t for the quirk suppressants, that would have been so much worse.”
“Plus, ‘Toshi’s a flippin’ toddler.”
“I know.”
“It’s not like his quirk is that dangerous to himself or us and it’s not like he’s wearing his persona chords. Like, we know it’s his voice. Besides, it’s not like every time he talks, he’s activating his quirk. He can control people, but only if he means to do it, and Hitoshi wouldn’t do that right now, and even if he did, you can just erase his quirk. Besides, do we even know for sure if he’s at the age when he got his quirk yet?”
“He is,” said Shouta. “He held up two fingers in Nezu’s office when I asked him how old he is, but then he held up three right after.”
“So he’s two or three?” Hizashi blinked in surprise. “He’s kinda small for three.”
“Surprised me too. But thinking rationally about Tanabe’s quirk, Midoriya’s age, and behavior after being hit with it, and now Shinsou’s and the fact that he seems a little small, there has to be something to the accuracy of the regression like we were talking about earlier. And it makes sense because he was underfed and neglected before he was abandoned by his first foster family.”
“In that case, since Hitoshi held up two, then three, and let’s say he’s, what? Like two and a half, maybe three max? Then he’s definitely got his quirk then.”
“Two and a half was the age it manifested,” Shouta agreed.
“It’s nothing we can’t handle,” said Hizashi. “We know how to dance to this tune. We get how his quirk works, even if Hitoshi doesn’t understand himself yet. The suppressants aren’t necessary.”
“I agree.”
“Shouta, seriously, you need to tell me who wanted to give him quirk suppressants.”
“It was a suggestion from Hound, but he said it might not be necessary…that it was ultimately up to me, but it could possibly be worth considering. Nezu agreed that it was an option if it was something we determined we needed.”
Hizashi scoffed. “Hitoshi definitely has his quirk then if Nezu and Hound were that concerned about it.”
“They didn’t know. It’s not like we ran any tests, and I left before they had the chance. I was honestly too irritated by the whole situation and rationally trying to determine the next steps as it relates to how and what we need to do next to care for our son while he’s regressed. But admittedly, neither Nezu nor Ryo meant anything by it, and I wasn’t mad—”
“Because you were still in shock.”
Shouta shook his head. “No, because I understood their concerns, but I found no reason to waste the energy actually getting angry over it.”
Hizashi rolled his eyes. “And just what concerns did they have, huh?”
“Their first concern was the possibility of Hitoshi involuntarily activating his quirk and it becoming taxing for me to have to erase it frequently since I have to rest longer between erasures now. Their other concern was him using his quirk on me. I don’t mind erasing if it comes to it, regardless of how many times I may have to do it. Besides, it’s not like erasure is the only way to break it.”
“If it happens to me, Shou, you can just shock me out of it with a push or something.”
“Exactly. And if I’m under his quirk, I can get myself out of it, or you can get me out of it. It’s really not as big of an issue as they implied. We know how to handle our son.”
“I’m glad you told them no, but I’m still upset they even suggested it.” Hizashi paused as Hitoshi took his thumb out of his mouth and rubbed his eyes. “Ah, I think he’s up. Is he up?”
Shouta watched his son’s eyes slowly open and his tiny eyebrows cinch together. “Yep, he’s up.”
“I’m sorry, little Sou, did we wake you up again?”
Hitoshi shook his head and blinked at Hizashi, then looked over at the underground pro and Shouta briefly wondered if his sleep issues started this early. Once Hitoshi noticed both of his parents were still there, he snuggled against the crook of Hizashi’s neck.
“Well, aren’t you just a little cuddle bug?” said Hizashi. “Shou, I know I kinda said this already, but I have a feeling that he’s gonna be a bit—”
“C-l-i-n-g-y? Yeah, I need to ask All Might where that baby carrier is that he used with Midoriya. I can’t keep using my capture weapon.”
“Well, I’m always down for some koala-ty time!”
Shouta rolled his eyes at the pun but smiled despite himself. This would be okay. If anything, they’d be able to get to know Hitoshi even better, or at least come to learn what kind of kid he was before all the foster homes. Hitoshi pointed at the floor and Hizashi obliged, setting him down on his feet.
“That better?”
“Yep! Papa,” said Hitoshi, “Papa, I—”
Before he could say anything else, he slapped his tiny hands over his mouth. Tears welled in his eyes in an instant.
Hizashi frowned. “What’s happened?”
“What is it?” asked Shouta. “Hitoshi, what’s wrong?”
“Can you tell us?” Hizashi asked. He watched Hitoshi shake his head and lower his eyes. “It’s okay, ‘Toshi. You can always ask dad or me or both of us anything.”
Shouta carefully took Hitoshi’s hands away from his mouth. “‘Toshi, you’re not in trouble, you know that, don’t you?”
Hitoshi nodded once, but then shook his head and looked away. Hizashi sucked in a breath, eyes glancing at Shouta, who looked back at him, then returned his focus to their son.
“Hitoshi, sweetheart, can you look at us?” asked Hizashi. When their son looked at him and then Shouta, he placed his hand on top of theirs. “Honey, you can tell us things and you know you can ask us for things. You don’t have to be afraid to talk. You can ask as many things as you want and we won’t get mad.”
“But…” Hitoshi mumbled and hiccuped, “…can’t.”
“Why?”
“Bad…talk…big bad.”
Hizashi looked as though he were about to join their son. Shouta would’ve touched his shoulder, but he didn’t want to drop Hitoshi’s hands. So, instead, he just watched his husband turn his head to the side, take a deep breath, and return his attention to their toddler.
“It’s bad?” continued Shouta. “Talking is bad?”
The toddler nodded. “Big bad.”
“So talking is really bad?”
“Yeah.”
“Who told you that, Hitoshi?” Shouta pressed, keeping his voice even and gentle. He knew the answer. When they’d adopted him, there was a list of previous families in Hitoshi’s file a page and a half long. At the age he was now, at least two to three of them likely contributed to Hitoshi’s ideas about speaking. Still, he swallowed his upset about the horrible person or people who taught Hitoshi that talking was bad because of his quirk. He could think about it later when he could exercise it out.
“Hitoshi,” said Hizashi, “you can tell us. It’s okay.”
The toddler shook his head.
Shouta shared a glance with Hizashi, who stared back with a knitted brow and a grimace he was trying to smooth into a neutral expression. “Hitoshi, you can tell me or Papa.”
Hitoshi whimpered and looked from his dad to his papa and back again.
“Who told you that asking questions and talking is bad? Because it’s not, Hitoshi. It’s not at all. Using your voice is okay.”
“It’s good, even!” added Hizashi. “It’s rockin’, really, ‘cause it’s how ya learn things, dig? Sometimes it’s how you communicate and share things, and other times we use sign language…but I don’t know what words you remember how to sign from when you were a teen—”
“Mic.”
“But anyway, kid, talking is good and it’s how I use my quirk! It’s how I help people.”
“And good things happen when Papa helps people with his voice,” said Shouta. “Good things happen when you use your voice and your quirk too.”
Hitoshi wrung his hands. “But…but I’m…bad…”
“No, you’re not.” Both pro-heroes replied.
“You are not bad.” Shouta brushed his fingers against Hitoshi’s cheeks, wiping away the quiet tears running down his face. “Hitoshi…you are not bad.”
Hizashi kissed Shinsou’s forehead. “Oh, sweetheart. Toshi, honey…” he sighed. “You’re so many wonderful things, Hitoshi, but you are not, and have never been, bad. And especially not for speaking.”
“No matter how many words you speak or questions you ask, you’re a good kid.”
“But—” Hitoshi hiccuped, “but-but…my quirk is bad and…and I bad if I ask. And...and talk…is big, big bad. I’m bad.”
“Your quirk isn’t bad,” said Hizashi and Shouta.
“Hitoshi,” Shouta began, “I want you to hear what Papa and I are gonna say because it’s so important, okay?”
The toddler sniffed and stared up at his parents.
“Your quirk is one that some people think is scary because they don’t understand it, but that doesn’t mean you’re scary. It doesn’t mean you’re bad. Have you done anything mean or bad on purpose, or did you ever mean to make someone hurt or feel bad or scared?”
Hitoshi shook his head.
“Then you’re not bad,” said Shouta. “You’re good.”
“You’re so good, Hitoshi,” Hizashi pressed. He sniffed and tried to hold back his tears. “You’re a really good kid.”
Hitoshi took a moment, his features pulled into thought. Then he asked, “I’m…good?”
“Yeah. Sweetheart, you’re so good.”
“And quirk good?”
“Yep,” Hizashi smiled. “It’s better than that, it’s totally rockin’! Hitoshi, you do awesome things with your quirk, and you’re gonna make an outstanding hero one day, okay?”
The toddler’s eyes grew wide. He tilted his head. “A…hewo?”
Shouta nodded. “Yes, a hero. And you’ll do it all with your quirk and your good heart. Because you grow up to be one of the kindest kids who works hard to help others.”
“A hewo…” That determined look of his teen years flickered in his eyes again. “I wanna be a hewo…a hero.”
“I know. And Papa and I and your other teachers know how much you want to be a hero, and so we do everything we can to help train you, so you can achieve that goal and become a hero.”
“I can be…a hero.”
Hizashi lifted the toddler into his arms and held him close. As Hitoshi hugged him, he allowed the tears to slip down his cheeks. “Yeah, kid. You absolutely can.”
Their son pulled back and looked at his parents. For the first time that day, a wide smile spread across Hitoshi’s face. “A hero!”
“Yes, Hitoshi. You can be a hero.”
“Pwomise?”
Shouta smiled. “Promise.”