Chapter Text
The pitter-patter of footsteps echoed from the sidewalk as Hisashi reeled at the plastic bags heavy enough to form ridges on his palms. A red glare flashed toward the assortment of diapers and baby powder, making the surrounding pedestrians scurry away. Unaware of his murderous aura, Hisashi muttered to himself while the sun beat down on his back. Errands are beneath me. Why did I have to give Kurogiri the day off today of all days? Then again, Inko had insisted that a trip to the grocery store wouldn’t kill him – and considering Hisashi’s assortment of healing quirks, she was probably right. (Not that Hisashi would admit it.)
A tree tall enough to rival Hisashi’s stature obscured his path. Rather than back down or duck, he grabbed a fistful of branches and snapped them off. In the process, the contents of his shopping bags spilled onto the pavement. Eyeing the fallen cans of baby food, Hisashi unleashed a grieved sigh. Great now I have to kneel down after all. You won’t win next time, tree. As he gathered his purchases, a half-smile formed upon Hisashi’s face – the kind of grin Inko would find endearing and everyone else would call murderous. Lifting up a yellow bear onesie, Hisashi envisioned pulling the hood over disheveled green curls all while Izuku tugged at plush ears. Maybe the tediousness of errands is worthwhile after all.
Familiar hushed whispers sounded while bodies shuffled in suppressed panic. Standing with his grocery bags, Hisashi let his chest swell with pride over how he embodied his epithet of the Symbol of Evil even with diapers in hand. Yet the crowd before him had instead parted like the sea around a lithe boy. Red eyes were torn wide open enough that it looked as if they were about to plummet out of their sockets. Asphalt cut into the kid's bare feet. A woman stepped closer, holding out a hand toward the boy – only to step back as he gave her a hopeful smile with skin flaking around his face. The passerby twisted their heads toward the clouds, leading the boy to wander toward a brick wall, staring blankly into the distance.
For a moment, Hisashi was transported into an abandoned suburb. Trucks toppled onto their sides. Trails of garbage from collapsed bins that stretched on for miles. A wiry boy with shoulder-length white hair – not blue. A comic book clutched to his chest as pupils grew small with shock. The heroes will help us. Right, Hisashi? Shaking his head, Hisashi clutched his temple and focused on the sound of honking cars, the neon billboards overhead, how the kid’s gaze wasn’t Yoichi’s gray. Still, Hisashi’s legs dragged him toward the kid on their own while he muttered an almost unintelligible reply to Yoichi’s question. No, they won’t. But we don’t need them.
Setting his shopping bags aside, Hisashi settled down in front of the kid. He had no idea whether he succeeded in banishing any traces of villainy from his expression – but at least the kid wasn’t running from him, so that was a good start. The boy’s shoulders sagged with defeat as if half-expecting Hisashi to back away like the other bystanders if he stared at them for a second too long.
“Are you alright?”
The boy opened his mouth only for a distorted gurgle to escape. Standing on trembling knees, the kid began to scratch his neck hard enough to summon blood, but there was still no sound. Yoichi emerged in front of him, sobbing into his comic book until tears blended with the ink – and just like back then, Hisashi sprang forward to wrap his brother in an embrace, become his anchor, and assure him that everything was going to be okay. Only Yoichi was gone. Like he had been for centuries, save for a pale imitation of his spirit. Instead, the boy stepped away from Hisashi, tripping over his feet as he stared at his hands as if they were a pistol.
Reaching out with All For One, the dark flickers of Hisashi’s quirk grazed against the boy’s. In his mind’s eye, he saw the crackle of a subdued ember as ashes rained all around. The roar of crumbling buildings that faded into nothingness. Curls of fire breath raced up Hisashi’s chest while invisible furious fumes pooled out of his ears. What's wrong with people? Why are they leaving this child completely abandoned? Is it because he manifested a “villainous” quirk? As the kid curled up into a ball, Hisashi stared at the blisters bursting upon the boy’s skin. Knots formed in Hisashi’s stomach at the sight of filth clinging to the boy’s blue locks. Clenching his fists, Hisashi wondered, What if that had been Izuku?
Turning over his shoulder, Hisashi scanned for pros on patrol to no avail. But villain or not, he didn’t have the time to wait for heroes to finally swoop in and save the day. “Would you like to have some katsudon? My wife's is the best in the whole country.”
When the boy nodded, the same kind of warmth enveloped Hisashi that he had felt when Izuku laughed for the first time.