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Hizashi loves a lot of things. He loves his husband. He loves his son. He loves his cat, Nimbus, and his other cat, Chili, and his other-other cat, Queenie, and his other-other-other cat, Iron Maiden. He loves his best friend, Nemuri. He loves all of his students individually and as a collective. He loves things. He loves people. He has a lot of love to give.
However, as much as he loves them all, he also hates them. Just a little bit. In a less serious but still completely serious kind of way. In a “sometimes you make me want to blast my own eardrums out” kind of way.
Sometimes his students are too rowdy, too rambunctious, to a point where the Present Mic persona– which he’s spent years perfecting and can do in his sleep, by the way– begins to drop. Sometimes his cats, which have deemed him barely tolerable, play a little too roughly and the scratches that litter his skin burn a little too much. Sometimes Nemuri teases him too much on national television, making too many references to his actual life (not that anyone but him would catch them, but it’s still frustrating nonetheless).
And sometimes, his husband leaves him floundering outside with their little boy, all by himself.
It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Hitoshi is a smaller, slightly less angsty version of Shouta when he was a teenager. There’s some differences but they’re rather minute; Hitoshi uses more hair care products than Hizashi does whereas Shouta doesn’t believe in such a thing. Hitoshi was forced into the shadows while Shouta always thrived in it. Hitoshi preens under casual touch while Shouta shudders away from it.
Small things. Technicalities and specifics. Generally speaking, though, they’re the same person.
So, it didn’t surprise either of them when they found out that Hitoshi had a nasty habit of internalizing everything and trying to “stand strong by himself”. It would make Hizashi roll his eyes but he’s too busy trying to make sure that neither of his boys self-implode.
Adopting the boy had been just one issue after another. First, it was getting him to admit that there was trouble at home. Then, it was getting him to trust that they wouldn’t ignore and abuse him. Then, it was convincing him to go to therapy. Then, it was convincing him to use the coping skills given to him in therapy.
Just like Shouta when he was a teen, getting Hitoshi to do anything remotely healthy is like pulling teeth.
It probably didn’t help that the primary coping mechanism his therapist recommended was a massive blow to his teenage boy pride. She called it “age regression” and said that it would give their son an opportunity to, effectively, re-do his childhood in a safe and healthy manner. She said that he, based on their conversations, had likely been doing it for years and hadn’t realized.
Hizashi thought it was adorable and Shouta thought it was a great idea.
Hitoshi, on the other hand, hadn’t been too happy with this news.
For a boy who refuses to admit to being a toddler, he sure throws tantrums like one.
But that had been weeks ago and Shouta, the Godsend that he is, had managed to coax Hitoshi into letting down his walls. Soon enough, they had a giggly little boy running around like a kitten with their first round of zoomies.
And Shouta, the Godsend that he is , has been the one watching over him. Hizashi doesn’t know why people think he’s good with kids, can’t even begin to guess where they got that idea from, but it isn’t true. Not even remotely. Present Mic is pretty good with kids– fake it ‘til you make it, right?– but even that’s for, like, fifteen minutes max.
It’s a lot easier to soothe a crying four year old when you’re trying to get them out of a burning building or away from a villain that shoots laser beams out of sharks. Hitoshi just cries to cry, sometimes. Tears fall at the drop of a hat and Hizashi really struggles with figuring out what to do with him.
Shouta says that babies can feel his panic and frustration and that calming his own frantic energy could help a lot. But this is the same man who shotguns energy drinks at four in the morning, so Hizashi isn’t really in the market for taking advice from him.
(Ignoring the fact that Hizashi is the one who started it when he had to juggle three jobs, of course.)
Anyways, the point is that Shouta has been a rock throughout this whole thing. Hizashi is better at adapting to change, sure, but Shouta is much better at being a constant presence and being able to keep people on track while going through that change. It’s what makes him such a great teacher.
Hitoshi was always drawn more towards Shouta anyways. Their uncanny similarities and time spent training together gave the two a solid foundation to base their relationship on. It’s something that Hizashi could never compare to, and he doesn’t mind it too much. He’s used to it at this point.
Though, it does cause some… problems .
Separation anxiety, parental envy, and, most prevalent, Hizashi having no experience handling little Hitoshi.
Which is a cause for slight contention between him and Shouta.
As in, right this second.
“Just keep him distracted for a bit, I’ll be right back.” Shouta mutters quietly to him.
“You can’t just leave me here alone!” Hizashi hisses back. “Shouta, this is a terrible idea. It’s like letting a dog babysit.”
“No, it’s like letting a baby be babysat by an even bigger baby.” Shouta deadpans.
“Hey!”
“Zashi,” Shouta says. “I need to take this call. You can handle him for a couple of minutes. He’s already busy doing his own thing. See?”
The two glance over at Hitoshi, the boy’s face soft and filled with awe as he crouches down and plays with the grass right outside their apartment building. The lilac of his fluffy hair dancing in the breeze and his chubby cheeks pushed out in a smile.
He looks tiny in his oversized shirt, white and smeared with dirt that barely covers the spider web design on it. He wears it like a dress, which makes Hizashi a little nervous for bumps and scrapes on his exposed legs, but it was either this or he doesn’t go outside at all. It took forever to convince him to wear his favorite clunky shoes and getting him to wear pants along with it just wasn’t a fight either of them were willing to have.
Despite his nervousness, the sight fills Hizashi’s chest with warmth.
“Right, right,” Hizashi takes a deep breath and exhales, his heart beating a little too fast in his chest. “And what if–”
“Don’t,” Shouta interrupts, hand still grasping his work phone. “You’re beginning to sound like me. Just stand there and make sure he doesn’t run off into the road.”
“Obviously!” Hizashi exclaims a little too loudly. “But what if he wants me to play with him? I don’t know how to play with toddlers, Shou.”
“He’s like six right now,” Shouta rolls his eyes. “Just try to sound interested when he says something and follow his lead. You’ll be fine, you drama queen.”
Hizashi lets out a noise of offense. “I’m not a drama queen!”
Shouta pulls his phone up to his ear and shushes him before walking up the stairs towards their apartment, huffing into the receiver about it being his day off. Hizashi watches him step away and scratches the back of his head, careful to avoid his stylized ponytail.
“Okay,” Hizashi says quietly to himself. “I can do this. Easy peasy.”
Hizashi turns back to look at his son, just as Hitoshi’s head lifts up and his eyes, so bright and full of excitement, tries to track down Shouta. “Daddy, look!”
Hizashi flounders for a bit before stammering out, “Uh, Daddy had to step inside for a bit, honey. He’ll be back in a second, don’t worry.”
He braces himself for the waterworks, or at the very least having to watch the sweet smile fall, but neither come. Hitoshi doesn’t skip a beat, simply humming and wiping his dirty hands on his– still white, mind you– shirt. “Oh, okay. Do you wanna see?”
Hizashi puts on his most dazzling Present Mic smile and steps forward so he can kneel next to Hitoshi. “Of course, little listener! Lemme see whatcha got.”
Truthfully, Hizashi isn’t sure what he was expecting. Maybe a mudpie? Or a cool rock? Hitoshi is a little collector and likes to have little knick-knacks and things scattered around his room.
What he isn’t expecting, and the reason for why he just might make Shouta sleep on the couch tonight, is the massive bug slithering on top of the grass.
It looks grotesque– a long, dark body with dozens of light brown legs. Even just looking at it makes Hizashi’s skin crawl and his lunch churn in his stomach. It’s not massive, only about the length of Hitoshi’s palm, but it’s big enough for Hizashi to hate it.
“See!” Hitoshi grasps. “Isn’t it cool, Zashi?”
Hizashi gulps, trying to remember his husband’s words. Sound interested, sound interested, sound interested. Maybe it’s not too late for a divorce. In sickness and in health doesn’t account for being left alone with a baby that loves bugs, now does it?
“Yeah, honey,” he gets out, sounding more pained than he’d like. His smile wavers from looking natural to being completely forced. “It’s super cool.”
Hitoshi reaches out to pick it up but Hizashi is just a little faster, gently grasping Hitoshi’s wrist. “Ah, let’s not touch it. It might be poisonous or be able to bite or–”
Hitoshi giggles. “Silly, Zashi. It won’t bite! It’s a cen-cem-centipede! They’re like worms.”
Now, he’s not an expert by any means but.. that doesn’t sound right to Hizashi. He’s pretty sure that they can hurt you, and that they’re nothing like worms, but he’s a bit too distracted by the way it seems to be crawling closer to protest. “Fine, just be careful.” He lets go of Hitoshi’s wrist.
“M’kay!” Hitoshi lays on hand in front of the centipede with his palm down on the ground. He watches, completely enraptured by the disgusting bug. HIzashi begins to feel sick as the thing slowly crawls onto Hitoshi’s hand, the legs all moving and dragging bits of dirt onto his skin.
When the entire bug sits comfortably on Hitoshi’s hand, the little boy looks up at Hizashi with a grin. “Look, look!”
Hizashi nods a bit forcefully as Hitoshi tries to bring the bug closer to him. “Uh huh, I see! Super cool, little listener!” Hizashi has been a Pro-Hero for over a decade at this point. He has seen and dealt with some pretty gnarly situations. And yet, nothing even comes close to the way he wants to shrivel up and die in this moment. “Say, why don’t we let it go back home, yeah? Maybe there’s baby centipedes that it needs to look after.”
Even just the thought of there being more of these creatures, even smaller and skittering about with their tiny legs, makes Hizashi feel light headed.
Hitoshi gasps, as if Hizashi had said something mind blowing. “You think she’s a momma centipede?”
“Maybe,” Hizashi’s tongue feels too big in mouth.
“It’s a momma…” Hitoshi repeats quietly, bringing the bug a little too close to his face. He watches it crawl around his hand, rotating it with the centipede’s movements, until it ends up in his palm. “Are you a momma?” Hitoshi asks with wide, puppy dog eyes. “Should we try and find your babies?”
The bug, of course, doesn’t respond.
“Hitoshi, please ,” Hizashi nearly begs. He’s spent the last thirty seconds slowly scooching his body away from the centipede, but he also knows that he needs to stay close in case the little monster attacks. Shouta has ten seconds to show up before he’s filing for divorce. “I’m sure it can get back to its babies, who are probably missing their momma right now.”
Hitoshi frowns and lowers his hand back to the ground, allowing the centipede to crawl off into the grass. Hizashi breathes a sigh of relief.
“I miss my momma,” Hitoshi says quietly.
The words halt every feeling of disgust and panic that Hizashi has been boiling in his body for the last five minutes. This is another part that Shouta was much better at: emotionally connecting with someone. It seems surprising, but people like his husband’s cool demeanor and the way he seems to easily be able to handle people when they’re emotionally tense. Hizashi gets too flighty, his words too impulsive and panicky. He knows how to make tea and how to make someone laugh but if they don’t want either of those things, he’s boned.
“Yeah, me too, buddy.” Hizashi says, reaching a hand up to pat at Hitoshi’s shoulder.
“You don’t got a momma?” Hitoshi asks, leaning towards him.
Hizashi hesitates to answer. “No, I don’t. We’re pretty similar, you and I.”
HItoshi’s mouth gapes a bit. “Oh. I’m sorry you don’t got a momma, Zashi.”
“It’s alright, honey. Not everyone needs a momma. Lots of people are perfectly happy with having a daddy and a Zashi.” Hizashi winks at him.
“But only I have a Zashi!” Hitoshi giggles.
“That’s right, baby” Hizashi’s smile reaches his eyes.
They sit in silence for another thirty seconds, watching the centipede disappear into the greenery between the building and the sidewalk. Even with it gone, Hizashi can still feel phantom legs crawling all over his skin and has to push down the urge to scream. Maybe he can shower while Shouta gives Hitoshi a bath…
“Zashi?” Hitoshi says shyly, eyes not having left where the centipede disappeared.
“Hm?”
“Do you… do you think that the momma will find its babies?”
Hizashi inhales. He doesn’t even know how centipedes have babies, let alone if this one ever had any. He just said that to try and get the bug away from him.
“I think so,” he finally says. “Mommas are good like that. They always find their way home when their babies need them.”
“Kinda like you, right, Zashi?” Hitoshi scooches closer to him, slotting himself into Hizashi’s side and laying his head on Hizashi’s shoulder.
“Yeah, I guess so.” Hizashi isn’t sure what the kid means by that but it warms his heart nonetheless. Okay, maybe this wasn’t a complete trainwreck and Shouta was right about him being able to handle things on his own. Maybe .
“Zashi?”
“Hm?”
“Where’s Daddy?”
“Oh, he’s–” Hizashi looks down at his little boy shoving his dirt (and bug) covered fingers in his mouth.
Well, maybe divorce is still on the table.