Chapter Text
Small hands reached for the knife.
“I said no, Eri,” Aizawa Shouta said, his tone firm but free of anger. “You’re too little to cut the apple, okay?”
Eri looked up at him, eyes as round as the moon, though they hardly saw over the kitchen counter. Her lip jutted out in a soft pout, but she didn’t protest.
“I’m sorry, papa.” She twirled a lock of long hair, more bashful about being caught than scared of being punished. “I just really like apples.”
Aizawa’s stoic face softened. He patted the top of her hair. Most parents would scold a child for not listening the first – or second or third – time, but Eri was different.
When they first met, Eri had been too scared to say no or speak up for herself, even if it meant going against her own interests. He had made the mistake of serving mushrooms for weeks because she had been too shy to admit she hated mushrooms.
She endured it quietly, exactly how Kai Chisaki raised her.
So for now, a little disobedience was tolerated. His heart warmed up, thinking she was comfortable enough to act like an actual seven-year-old.
Aizawa cut the apple into reasonable slices, then peeled the red skin to form bunny ears. It delighted her, a joy he always thanked Mirio for.
He nodded to the table, then carried the plate for her. Her soft pitter-patter across the hardwood floor was a dear sound he could never take for granted. That, and her laughter. Something that was still new to him, let alone herself, so he treasured it.
Aizawa set the plate down on Eri’s Hello Kitty placemat and pulled back the chair for her.
“Thanks for the food, papa.” She settled in her seat and smiled, picking up an apple slice with care.
“Always,” he said, patting her hair and returning to the kitchen.
Ingredients to make a simple lunch spread over the counter: a bag of rice, an egg carton, and a can of spam. It wasn’t as nourishing as Eri should’ve been eating, at least according to the parenting book Present Mic bought him, but he had also learned a new phrase.
Fed is best, so he didn’t fret. He was still warming up to the idea of cooking for two.
Aizawa tied his long, black hair into a low bun and washed his hands. He measured the rice while keeping an ear on Eri. He had read in the book how easily children choked, even with a parent in the room.
“Can I watch cartoons from here?” Eri asked, bits of apple flying with every other syllable. “Please?”
“Chew with your mouth closed, and swallow before you speak,” he said without looking up. “But yes.”
“Thank you!”
Eri reached for the remote and put on her favorite show. It was an episode she’d already seen twice but it did the trick. Eri watched happily as she ate – remembering to chew and swallow properly.
Aizawa grinned, making lunch without little hands reaching to help.
“Thank you for lunch,” Eri said after cleaning her plate.
Aizawa beamed; glad the simple meal appeased her. “Always.”
“And forever?” she asked with a smile.
He nodded. “That’s a promise.”
Aizawa brought the plates to the sink. He rolled up his sleeves and turned on the water. Something bumped against his legs. He looked down as Eri set her stool and stood on it. It made her tall enough to reach into the sink.
“Can I help you?” he asked, one brow lifting.
“No.” She grabbed the sponge from its holder. “I can help you. Like you always help me.”
His gut said no, but then he remembered. The book stated this was the age they started gaining independence and a sense of responsibility. He didn’t want to stunt her growth, so he made more room for her at the sink.
“Okay, but no knives. And be very careful, little one.”
Aizawa stood beside Eri as she scrubbed the dishes. He rinsed and set them to dry on the rack. They worked as a team as Eri filled him in on yesterday’s lesson.
It wasn’t safe for Eri to attend regular kindergarten, plus she was emotionally and mentally behind her peers due to the abuse Overhaul put her through. For now, Aizawa and the other U.A. teachers cycled through homeschooling. Yesterday had been music with Present Mic and reading with Midnight.
“Mic taught me how to play Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star on the recorder,” she said, her eyes sparkling with joy.
“How nice.” The thought of Eri trying something new and enjoying it so much that it still made her happy to talk about it, made him grin. “Maybe next week I’ll drop by between classes and listen to a song or two.”
“Oh, oh!” She began to bounce on the stool. He placed a hand behind her back to keep her from falling. “That’s the best part. He let me bring home the recorder, I can practice anytime.”
Aizawa’s smile faded, imaging the sharp, loud sound being played at any odd hour of the day. How could he say no to an impromptu performance? He made a mental note to thank Present Mic… with a deadly glare across the staff room.
“Maybe later. Let’s first focus on not falling off the stool.”
Eri stuck out her tongue and giggled. Something dark must’ve passed in her mind because for a second her eyes lost their glimmer and her cheeks their rosiness. She brought her bouncing to a minimum – though she didn’t completely stop. She squeezed the scrubber and said with a weepy tone, “You always worry. I don’t mean to make trouble for you, papa Aizawa.”
She really is an intuitive child, so empathetic despite what that bastard put her through. He clenched his fist out of sight. A million thoughts jumbled with what he would do if he ever saw Overhaul again. None of them befitting of a hero.
He held her closer, though not to prevent a fall. “I can handle a little trouble.”
It’s worth it for you, he wanted to add.
Instead, he said, “Look at that, all done with the dishes. Good job, Eri.”
Eri smiled, hopping off to dry her hands on the kitchen towel. She put her stool away in its corner. “I like helping you with the chores. Since I can’t be a hero, yet.”
Aizawa raised an eyebrow; this was the first she had mentioned any plans for the future. He dried his hands, trying to remain calm. Memories threatened to surface. Harsh ones that he struggled to face.
Once we graduate, let’s start a hero agency! came to mind from what felt like a lifetime ago.
Aizawa calmed his face, removing any trace of surprise or concern. His pale skin smoothed and his eyes relaxed. He looked as jaded and placid as he did before Eri entered his life and brightened it.
“You want to be a hero, huh?”
“Uh huh.” Her little head bobbed up and down. Long curls swayed with her excitement. “I want to rescue people in danger and make them smile like Mirio, Deku, and you, papa.”
Aizawa swallowed the lump of anxiety choking him. He feared the day would come when people like Overhaul or Shigaraki returned for Eri, wanting to use her rewind quirk for evil. He planned to be there to protect her; always and forever.
Imagining a future where Eri intentionally ran toward danger… It made his stomach hurt.
A fist pounded on the front door, saving Aizawa from facing the lurking thoughts. He excused himself to Eri and went to the unit’s front door. His face remained calm as he answered.
“Aizawa!” Present Mic greeted, louder than was necessary. Decked out in his full hero costume with his hair as tall as ever, he was almost as painful to see as he was to hear. He waved beyond Aizawa. “And hello sweet Eri!”
“Hello, teacher Mic!” Eri called back, waving with both her hands up. “Why are you here? Lessons were yesterday.”
Aizawa mumbled under his breath, “Tell me you’re here for the devil’s clarinet.”
Present Mic laughed, slapping Aizawa on the back. “She needs to practice the recorder, or she won’t pass the unit. Don’t stop her from experiencing the full breadth of sound.”
Aizawa rolled his eyes and stepped aside to let Mic in. Once the door closed, Present Mic bowed to Eri. His extravagant blond hair was almost long enough to brush her nose.
“Forgive me for interrupting your afternoon, but can I borrow Aizawa for just a moment?”
Eri indulged Mic. Furrowing her brows, she put a hand on her chin and pretended to mull it over. She gave a thumbs up.
“Okie. I’ll go read,” she said, walking to her bedroom.
“Is something wrong?” Aizawa asked.
“Of course not,” Present Mic said, motioning for Aizawa to be patient.
They watched her shut the bedroom door, careful of what they said within earshot. Aizawa observed Mic out of the corner of his eye, wondering what he needed that couldn’t be said in front of Eri. Mic stood uncharacteristically straight as if someone had replaced his spine with a rod. Something about his smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“I assume you’re not here for Eri’s afternoon quirk lesson,” Aizawa said, crossing his arms.
“I hate to do this to you, big guy, but I’m in a pinch. All the other teachers are either on a mission, taking leave, or busy with students. I need help for just a couple hours. I can’t say much right now without losing time, but I’ll fill you in on the ride to the Hero Public Safety Commission.”
Aizawa’s blood ran cold. “What do you have going on with… those people?” His voice dripped with venom toward the organization he hardly trusted.
“It’s a meeting about some concerns they have about hero academies, including U.A. Nezu will be there, but he wants teachers to come for support. Even if I had other choices, you’re the best U.A. has.”
Aizawa scratched the back of his head. Today was Wednesday, this was when he helped Eri train her quirk. He enjoyed their time together, but he couldn’t let down his longtime friend and coworker, too.
“I don’t know. What about All Might or – ?”
“All Might’s supervising 1-A’s baseball game against 1-B. I don’t want the kids to think something’s up if I pull him and make them reschedule.”
“I’m not a fan of these meetings.”
“And neither am I!” Present Mic paused, looking down at his phone. “I didn’t want to pull this card, but the meeting might have the most impact on 1-A. That’s why I think you should be there.”
Aizawa sighed. That did the trick. When it came to his students, he didn’t fuck around. He would go, though with great grievances, just to represent his students’ best interest.
“What do I do about Eri? If everyone’s busy like you said, who will watch her?”
Present Mic checked his phone again. “Don’t be mad…”
Aizawa hated being told to not be mad. “What is it?”
“I asked All Might to pick a sitter from the students. And I think he’s using it as an opportunity for a valuable teaching lesson.”
A stone dropped in Aizawa’s stomach. He found his voice just as someone banged on the door.
“You can’t mean…?”
“Sorry, Aizawa.” He shrugged with an apologetic smile. “I swear I’ll pay for any damages.”
Present Mic barely opened the door when a black boot kicked through. Bakugou Katsuki forced himself in, brows furrowed and mouth downturned. Dirt stains and burns marked his uniform. As if he had been in a brawl on the field and didn’t have time for a new shirt.
“Hey, old man,” Bakugou greeted, then gritted his teeth in what was meant to be a smile. “I’m here to guard the brat.”
Aizawa slapped the top of his head. “You’ve got to be shitting me. All Might must want to die.”
“That’s what I said,” mumbled Bakugou. “Anyway, get the hell out of here.”
Aizawa shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
“Hey, do you think I can’t do this? That I’m not good enough?”
“Calm down, kid. I’m not challenging you. But are you CPR trained? Do you know what to do if she falls and hits her horn? Can you keep her safe without scaring her?”
Bakugou’s eye twitched as his teacher Aizawa listed off more skills a babysitter needed to know. He finally had enough and stomped his foot.
“You talk too much, Mr. Aizawa, I can do this.”
Aizawa shot Mic a deadly glare, saying with his eyes; You’ll pay hell for this.