Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

His patrol had been long and arduous.

In only five hours, Shouta had stopped two gang fights, four attempted assaults, and six attempted muggings. Overall, an active night, but still rather slow for a Friday night.

It was what came at the end of his patrol that made the night so difficult.

As Shouta ran, capture weapon dragging him from rooftop to rooftop, he felt his weariness grow stronger. All he wanted was to be at home and in his partners’ arms, wrapped up in a heavy weighted blanket with the additional pressure of their cats laying over his feet. In his tired state, Shouta slowed his run minutely to give himself a bit of a break.

It was because of this that he spotted them.

Bright red shoes, lying neatly next to the barrier of the roof he was on. There was no note, but Shouta knew the significance of both the shoes and their placement. Breath catching in his lungs, he rushed over to the edge and looked down-

His eyes slipped shut at the sight that greeted him, a silent plea going up that he still hadn’t been too late. However, as he lowered himself to the ground with his capture weapon and got a good sight of the kid- because that was a kid, they were wearing a middle school uniform- he realized his prayers had gone unheard.

The rooftop had been too high.

The kid’s skull hadn’t stood a chance.

Closing his eyes again, Shouta bowed his head for a moment before crouching next to the body. The stench of blood was overwhelming, and red coated the child’s hair and uniform. Their limbs were twisted at odd angles, and their skull was…

Shouta nearly gagged, but- out of respect for the child- managed to hide his disgust.

But it wasn’t disgust at the child, nor their decision.

Never them.

Shouta had been there, himself, after all.

The gore was overwhelming, but Shouta still managed to pull out his work phone and dial for a non-emergency ambulance to come take the body away and-

A sharp gasp took his attention away from his phone, and he looked around himself for a moment to try and find the bystander who was wandering around at four in the morning. However, he couldn’t see anyone around. As far as he could see were mere dimly lit streets and a few shrubs here and there. Overall, it was a neglected part of down, even more disheveled than the Hero himself.

A small whimper echoed through the night, and Shouta’s head turned sharply towards the noise. Towards the body.

The child’s eyes were wide open, a bright emerald green that would haunt Shouta’s nightmares for months to come.

Shouta immediately dropped to his knees, sending out another message- this time telling the ambulance to hurry the fuck up- before turning to the kid to assess the damage once more. “Hey, kid,” he spoke loudly but calmly, catching the child’s attention.

And then, the cracking started.

The cracking of bones realigning as the child’s limbs snapped back into place, their neck straightening up and their skull reforming itself.

The child’s eyes flashed over to Shouta, their mouth opening as they tried to speak, but only a rough cough came out. They tried to sit up, limbs frantically shaking and chest heaving.

“Hey, there,” Shouta spoke again, more concerned this time, putting a hand to the child’s chest to both keep them lying down and calm. “Stay down, kid, you’ve had a hell of a-” Don’t mention the fall, “-night tonight, haven’t you?”

The child’s eyes shut tightly as they settled onto the blood-soaked pavement, whimpering deep in their throat. The sound was filled with pain- of the physical or mental kind, Shouta didn’t know. “Hey,” Shouta said a third time, reaching over to hold the kid’s hand with his free one, “squeeze my hand once for yes, and twice for no, okay?”

The kid whined once more but squeezed Shouta’s hand once. And hell, the kid had a grip.

“Are you in any pain?”

Two squeezes.

“Do you remember what happened?”

Two hesitant squeezes, followed by a short pause, then one weak squeeze.

“You… you do?” Shouta asked, mouth feeling dry as he hoped desperately, he misunderstood.

And then, the child spoke.

“Y-Yeah,” they croaked out, tears welling in their eyes, “I r-remember e-everything.”

Oh, kid…

The sound of a siren at a distance echoed towards them, and the child winced at the noise.

“It’s okay, kid, it’s just the ambulance-” Shouta tried to explain, only to be cut off by the child’s frantic noises.

“N-No! You c-c-can’t- I can’t a-afford to g-go to a h-h-hospital, I- I- I’m Q-Quirkless, Eraserhead-”

Several things about that sentence sent off alarm bells in Shouta’s head, but none more than the child admitting to being Quirkless.

“Kid,” Shouta croaked out, not sure how he should reply. “Kid, you were dead when I got here, and I’m not sure for how long. Your…” Your skull was caved in. “You didn’t look good… I don’t know if you’re as Quirkless as you think you are.”

Shouta had expected the child to whimper again, to cry, to scream, something. But instead, the child breathed out the quietest “oh” that Shouta had ever heard. It was downright heartbreaking.

But before the Hero could respond, an ambulance was pealing up towards them, coming to a screeching halt. The doors to the back opened, and two EMTs rushed out with a stretcher.

Shouta moved to give them space, but as he went to take his hand away from the child’s, their breath hitched, and they clutched onto him like a lifeline.

“P-Please-” the child started, only to devolve into a coughing fit. “D-Don’t-” they coughed and couldn’t continue, but Shouta understood.

“Hey, hey,” Shouta murmured loud enough to be heard over the sirens, returning to his previous spot and squeezing the child’s hand tightly. “I’m not going anywhere, kid.”

One of the EMTs maneuvered around Shouta to place a brace on the child’s neck, the other lowering the stretcher towards the child’s side.

At a loss for more words to say, Shouta merely asked, “You got a name, kid?”

“…I-Izuku. My n-name is I-Izuku.”

…

It was two hours later that Shouta received a frantic phone call.

They’d gotten to the hospital and Izuku had been examined, Shouta staying by their side and holding their hand the entire time. When the doctor arrived, she asked all of the necessary questions, glossing over Izuku’s murmurs of being Quirkless. She did, however, focus heavily on the whole suicide attempt thing. And, God, Shouta was so glad it was just an attempt…

Even if Izuku had technically been successful.

The mere thought made Shouta want to vomit.

He’d seen plenty of suicides in his tenure as a Pro Hero. And he’d seen plenty of successful ones. But he’d never seen someone come back from the dead before. And with no injuries? No pain? Everything healed?

It was a powerful Quirk, if not a terrifying one.

The nurses took blood samples from Izuku, jotting down their heart rate and blood pressure. The doctor had already left the room, saying something about a Quirk counselor before she had left. Once the nurses were finished, they offered Izuku a fresh change of clothes- even if they were just scrubs- and said they could shower off in the bathroom.

Shouta had requested they leave the door cracked, and Izuku had blushed from ear to ear. It made them look like a strawberry, and it took a great amount of willpower for Shouta to not grin. He’d been told his grin was terrifying in the past, and it wouldn’t do to terrify the poor kid.

Once Izuku was in the shower, Shouta realized his patrol had been officially “over” for about two hours. He pulled out his cell phone- on silent, as it always was on patrol, even though his patrol was technically far over with- and winced when he saw the notifications.

23 texts from Hizashi. 13 missed calls from Hizashi.

34 texts from Oboro. 8 missed calls from Oboro.

3 texts from Tsukauchi. 2 missed calls from Tsukauchi.

Shouta winced a second time when he saw Naomasa’s name pop up. If Oboro and Hizashi had called the detective, then that meant Shouta was probably being considered a missing person at the Precinct.

The last missed call had been from Hizashi, a mere ten minutes ago. Shouta decided to call him first, considering.

But, before he could even hit the dial button, his phone was ringing again. The caller ID showed Hizashi Yamada.

Sighing with the knowledge that he was in for it as soon as he picked up, Shouta answered the call.

“OHMYGOD SHOUTA ARE YOU OKAY-”

Another voice echoed from across the line.

“Zashi, babe, inside voice.”

There was shuffling, followed by arguing, followed by the pressing of a few buttons that told Shouta he’d been placed on speaker.

“Sho? Babe? Are you there?”

“Sweetheart, please talk to us-”

“I’m alright,” Shouta said, voice thick with emotion. Of course, he knew his partners cared about him, they’d been together for fucking years. But hearing their concern and love so blatant in their voices still got to him, even now. Not to forget, he’d been through a hell of a night. “I’m at Musutafu General.”

“SHOUTA! Being in the hospital does not constitute as alright, ohmygod-”

“Zashi, babe, gorgeous, love of my life, please let Sho finish.”

Shouta chuckled, making the other two men quiet down. “I’m not injured.”

“Then why-”

“Zashi.”

Shouta smirked at the banter before remembering exactly why he was at the hospital.

The shower in the bathroom was still running, and the door was only open a crack, so Shouta lowered his voice and prayed that Izuku didn’t have good hearing.

“There was… there was a jumper tonight.”

Hizashi and Oboro both inhaled sharply, but it was Oboro who asked, “Did they… succeed?”

“…Yeah. Yeah, technically they did.”

“Technically? Babe, what do you mean technically?”

Shouta sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as his eyes squinted shut. “That’s just the thing, Zashi. Kid’s got a healing Quirk. Or a resurrection Quirk. We’re not quite sure… They thought they were Quirkless until tonight.”

Leaning forward on his knees, Shouta exhaled deeply. His partners were quiet, now, and Shouta deeply appreciated their silent understanding. They knew he was trying to process, and, as frantically worried as they had been, they were giving him time to breathe and think. Shouta had difficulties with words sometimes, and Oboro and Hizashi always knew just when he was trying to think of what to say.

It was just one of the reasons why he loved them so much.

“…Their name’s Izuku. I haven’t gotten any family name or details, but I’m hoping they’ll be open to talking soon.”

“Are they nonbinary?” Hizashi asked.

Shouta replied, “Not sure. I’ll ask in a few minutes. Kid’s in the shower now. They were…” coated in their own blood, “a bit of a mess. Figured they could use some time to themselves.”

“Maybe they’ve had too much time to themselves,” Oboro theorized. “And you sound exhausted. Do you want us to bring you anything? A change of clothes? Your sleeping bag?”

“Coffee,” Shouta demanded. “A metric shit ton of coffee.”

“Sweetheart,” Hizashi crooned, “You’re not gonna be able to sleep-”

“I won’t be able to sleep anyways, Hizashi,” Shouta snapped. Immediately, he felt guilty and apologized. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to snap, I just-”

“You’re overwhelmed,” Hizashi sympathized. “You’ve had a long fucking night and you’re worried about the kid. I understand, Sho, but thank you for the apology anyways.”

“Now,” Oboro said, “Coffee. Anything else?”

Looking down at his costume, the black fabric tacky with blood, Shouta said, “A change of clothes would be nice, too.”

“Can do. Hizashi, call Naomasa and tell him to call off the search.”

Shouta groaned. “You had them searching for me?”

“You were two hours late, Shouta! We were worried.”

“Hizashi was theorizing all of the terrible things that could have happened to you, so I called Naomasa. He hooked up the MIA report and put out an APB for you.”

“Great,” Shouta sighed, slouching in his chair. “Mind calling him for me?”

“On it, babe,” Oboro reassured. “And… Shouta?”

“Hm?”

“Take care of yourself, too, tonight, okay?”

A small, sad smile lifted over Shouta’s lips. “I will.”

“Alright. We’ll see you soon.”

“Bye, sweetheart!”

Shouta hung up right as the shower was turned off. Steam was coming out from under the door, flowing past the crack between it and the wall. Shouta could barely hear any pattering around- Izuku was light on their feet, a concerning piece of food for thought- but even so, Shouta heard quiet murmuring coming from the bathroom.

Izuku hadn’t had a phone on themselves when they were retrieved, so they couldn’t be talking to anyone else. Frowning, Shouta stood and crept silently over to the door, putting his ear up to the wood.

“-stupid, stupid, stupid. You messed up again, Izuku. You failed… But- but Eraserhead… and… I have a Quirk now?... The activation requirements… I- I never would’ve known unless I’d done it. I never would have…”

The kid took a deep breath, and Shouta pulled himself away from the door, settling back down in his seat just before Izuku took a step out into the room.

They froze when they saw him, blinking owlishly.

Now that there wasn’t blood all in their hair, Shouta could see that it glinted green in the yellow lighting of the hospital. Their freckles were more prominent, too, even if their cheeks were pink from the heat of the shower. They had put on the scrubs, leaving their arms bare- their scarred arms. Shouta’s eyes didn’t waver from Izuku’s own, but in his peripheral, he saw multiple burn and slash marks crisscrossing over the kid’s pale limbs.

“Hey,” Shouta said plainly.

“H-Hey…” Izuku said back, looking utterly confused. And then, they asked meekly, “You- You’re s-still here?”

“Of course,” Shouta replied easily. “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Izuku looked even more confused, and maybe a little concerned, as they walked over to the bed slowly. They sat down on the edge facing Shouta, crossing their arms over their chest and rubbing at their shoulders.

“Cold?” Shouta asked, looking around for a blanket.

“Y-Yeah,” Izuku murmured, looking uncomfortable.

Shouta stood, and Izuku flinched at the abrupt motion. The hero paused, then made his way over to the bed, stepping louder than he usually would have and telegraphing his movements as he pulled the scratchy blanket off the mattress and gently placed it over Izuku’s shoulders. The child’s wide eyes looked up at Shouta, searching the man’s face for something.

They must have found what they were looking for- or perhaps, they didn’t find it- because their shoulders relaxed and they murmured, “T-Thank you, Eraserhead.”

“Call me Shouta,” Shouta replied as he sat back down. Leaning forward with his elbow on his knee, propping his chin up with a hand, the man tilted his head and studied Izuku’s face. The child was uncomfortable, even if they had relaxed a little, and cold even after the hot shower. Perhaps the chill was a side effect from their Quirk? Or perhaps it was from the adrenaline crash or the panic. All were valid theories.

Shouta cleared his throat. “First things first, kid.”

Izuku tensed up again, retreating in towards themselves and looking at Shouta with a mix of distrust and confusion.

It nearly broke Shouta’s heart, such a young child looking at him like they were a wounded animal, and he was a predator.

“What are your pronouns?”

Izuku paused, blinking owlishly once more as they mimicked back, “P-Pronouns?”

“Yeah. Mine are he/him. My partners are he/him and he/they. What about you?”

“…H-He/him,” Izuku said, and Shouta nodded back.

“Alright. Now, Izuku, are you hungry?”

The boy paused, looking contemplative, before shrugging.

“Okay. When my partners get here with my change of clothes, I’ll go out and grab us something to eat.” Shouta then stretched, arms over his head as his shoulders and back cracked like a glowstick. But without the benefit of actually glowing, Hizashi would have said. “Any preference?”

“…N-No, s-sir.”

“Sir isn’t necessary, kid. Like I said, just call me Shouta.”

“…O-Okay, Mr. S-Shouta.”

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Shouta turned back to his cell phone and saw that Hizashi had texted him.

does the little listnr want anythin?

“My partner wants to know if you want anything.”

Izuku paused again- he seemed prone to that, the freeze rather than fight or flight. “Um…”

When it became apparent that Izuku didn’t know how to respond, Shouta encouraged him with a few options.

“Would you like a change of clothes? Or maybe a softer blanket? Some slippers or a hoodie?”

“…Y-Yes, p-please. I-If it’s not t-too much t-trouble-”

“No trouble at all, kid,” Shouta interjected before Izuku could spiral. “I asked you after all.”

“…N-Not all a-adults mean it, t-though…”

And oh, if that couldn’t break Shouta’s heart anymore.

Placing his cell phone aside, Shouta looked up into Izuku’s eyes, putting as much sincerity into his voice as possible. “I don’t do things I don’t want to or don’t mean, Izuku. It would be illogical.”

“…Illogical…” the child mulled over the word for a moment. Then, Izuku nodded firmly- the first kind of determination Shouta had seen from the kid since he’d met him. “Alright. T-That makes sense.”

“My partners might disagree with you,” Shouta smirked, picking his phone back up as he shot a text back to Hizashi. “But I appreciate the support.”

The corner of Izuku’s mouth quirked upwards, and Shouta counted it as a win. But then, not a moment later, the child’s face fell, his chin tilting down towards his chest.

“Y-You… you’re gonna a-a-ask me w-why, aren’t y-you?”

Shouta paused in his typing, glancing up from beneath his bangs at Izuku. The child was hugging the blanket around himself in a vice, as though it were his only lifeline.

“…No,” Shouta admitted. “I’m going to ask you questions, yes, but you don’t have to tell me why you did it.”

“…Not y-yet, you mean.”

“Not ever, Izuku,” Shouta amended. “Sure, I’d like to know why, but only so that I can better know how to help you. But if you’re uncomfortable talking about it with me, we can find someone else for you to talk to.”

Izuku’s face bunched up, lips pursed. “Like a t-therapist?”

“Yes,” Shouta nodded. “Like a therapist.” When Izuku’s face shriveled up even more, Shouta continued. “There’s nothing wrong with talking to a therapist. I see mine once a month. I used to see her twice a week, but I’ve gotten to where I can go longer in between sessions.” I’m more stable than I used to be, Shouta wanted to say. But his own story could wait. This was about Izuku, not him.

Izuku’s face unbunched, but he still looked conflicted. “O-Okay…”

“Do you have any questions for me?”

At that, Izuku looked even more confused than before. “W-What?”

“Do you have any questions for me?” Shouta prompted again. “Anything on your mind?” Shouta would have to be asking the questions soon enough- or rather, a police officer would- but that would wait until Izuku could be matched up with a social worker. It was policy for all cases with minors, even if the guardian was present and supportive.

Shouta couldn’t help but wonder about Izuku’s guardian- were they supportive? Were they abusive? Was Izuku safe at home? A kid who felt like they were safe wouldn’t have jumped off a fucking building- but the hero knew now wasn’t the time.

In the meantime, he’d try to get Izuku to relax and calm down. The kid seemed to like theorizing about stuff- his mumble episode had told Shouta that much- so Shouta supposed giving him the reigns on asking questions might help.

“…Y-You m-mentioned a partner?”

Shouta nodded. “Partners, but yes, I have partners.”

“…A-Are they n-n-nice?”

Contentedness filled Shouta’s chest, a softness making his shoulders relax- he hadn’t even realized he’d been so tense before. “Yes. They’re very nice.”

“…W-What are their names?”

“Hizashi and Oboro.”

Izuku’s face screwed up again, but this time, it looked not like he was disgusted, but more like he was thinking. “H-Hizashi… Yamada? And Oboro S-Shirakumo? Present Mic and Loud Cloud?!” the child’s voice grew louder, more excited, as he spoke.

Shouta cocked an eyebrow. “Yes. How did you-”

“W-Well, you’re a Pro Hero- Eraserhead- and you went to UA when you were younger- I saw your Sports Festival clips, your Quirk is amazing, Mr. Shouta- and I know that Present Mic’s first name is Hizashi, because it’s public knowledge- the same with Loud Cloud’s- and they both were in your class at UA- and how Loud Cloud took down Present Mic with the reflections on his clouds was legendary, ohmygod- so I figured that they were your partners because you said-”

And then, Izuku let out a squeak before growing quiet, flinching away from Shouta once again. “I- I’m s-sorry, I shouldn’t have r-r-rambled -”

“You’re okay,” Shouta placated the child, feeling even more concern blooming in his chest. “Again, I asked you, Izuku. You didn’t say or do anything you weren’t supposed to. In fact, it’s pretty impressive that you know our Quirks. You said you pulled up footage from our Sports Festival?”

That had been years ago, and Shouta was surprised there was even still footage out there, but Izuku nodded excitedly at the man. “Y-Yeah! I l-love analyzing Q-Quirks, and- and you’re my favorite hero, s-so I- I learned as much as I c-could about you…” Suddenly shy again, Izuku looked down at his feet. “S-Sorry, I know that c-c-creepy, I-”

“It’s not creepy,” Shouta said, feeling a little disoriented at the idea of being a middle schooler’s favorite hero. But he couldn’t ask why- he had far too much dignity for that- so instead, Shouta countered with, “You like analyzing Quirks, huh? You want to be an analyst?”

Izuku’s face crumbled.

Turning in on himself once more, Izuku sniffled, and Shouta saw tears welling up in the boy’s eyes. Before the man could say anything, however, Izuku muttered out, “N-No… I w-want to be a H-Hero…”

A Quirkless Hero, huh? Oh, kid… The world probably tried to crush you, didn’t it?

With that in mind, Shouta sat back in his seat casually and shrugged. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

Izuku gaped at him. “W-What?” the boy asked, sounding utterly lost.

“I said it sounds like a plan to me,” Shouta responded. “You’ll have to be clever, but I can already tell you are. You’ll just have to muster up the determination to do it, but you can be a Hero, Izuku.” You just have to live long enough to see that day, kiddo.

“R-Really?” Izuku croaked out, tears flowing down his cheeks, now. “Y-You r-really think I c-can be… be a H-Hero? Like y-you?”

Oh, Shouta’s heart was utterly shattered for this boy.

And so, he sat up in his chair and looked Izuku straight in the eye when he said:

“Yes, Izuku. You can be a Hero.”

In the next moment, Shouta had two armfuls of a sobbing preteen. In two strides, Izuku had all but collapsed into his arms, a snotty and teary mess. Shouta froze for a moment, not sure how to respond. Izuku had flinched when he was approached before, but now he was seeking out comfort. Should Shouta hug him back? Or would that trigger him?

But then, Izuku’s face burrowed in Shouta’s neck, and the boy was choking out on a whisper, “T-Thank you, Eraserhead.”

And Shouta hugged him back.

Taking Izuku into his arms, Shouta hugged the boy to his chest, cradling the child like he was a toddler and not nearly a teenager. Izuku’s sobs only grew at the motion, but he clutched onto Shouta even tighter, his skinny fingers wrapping up in the hero’s capture weapon as he cried and cried and cried.

Shouta didn’t shush him the whole time. Instead, he rubbed firm circles into Izuku’s back, allowing the boy to be with and feel his emotions. A silent, steady support.

…

Chapter Text

It took a while, but Izuku’s sobs finally tapered down. He was merely hiccupping and sniffling when there came a knock at the door. Shouta looked up from where he’d been staring at the floor, trying to compartmentalize with all of his and Izuku’s similarities- horrible, horrible similarities- and trying not to cry himself at the memory of not being allowed this same catharsis.

Not for years, Shouta thought to himself. Not before UA. Not before Hizashi. Not before Oboro…

But, again, Shouta reminded himself, this was about Izuku.

So, he’d compartmentalize for now and make a therapist’s appointment later.

The door cracked open, and the familiar face of Detective Tsukauchi appeared in the doorway.

Izuku flinched inwards, drawing closer to Shouta’s chest, as he looked at the detective with confusion.

“Hey, Naomasa,” Shouta drawled. “Didn’t know you’d be put on this case.”

Tsukauchi smiled pleasantly. “You sound disappointed, Shouta.”

“Never.”

Tsukauchi chuckled good-naturedly, then looked towards Izuku, who was doing his best to disappear beneath the blanket still around his shoulders. “Hey, kiddo. My name is Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi. Do you mind if I come in?”

Izuku paused, then shook his head slowly. Tsukauchi entered the room, and a woman in slacks and a ruffled blouse followed him.

If Shouta had thought Izuku flinched around him and Tsukauchi, the child utterly leaped when the woman entered the room.

Abuse from female authority figures? Shouta pondered, although he said nothing of it.

“Hey, hon,” the woman said softly, smiling gently but genuinely. “My name’s Suki Yoshimura. I’m the social worker on your case.”

“H-H-Hello, M-Miss Yoshimura…” Izuku dutifully spoke, staring down at his feet.

Tsukauchi and Yoshimura exchanged looks, but Shouta kept his eyes on Izuku, taking in the stress on the boy’s brow and the way he was biting his lip harshly. The kid was also twisting at his own wrist, stringing it in a way that Shouta knew must hurt.

The man reached over and tapped one finger on the back of Izuku’s palm. Jumping in place, the boy whipped his head up to stare at Shouta.

“Be gentle with yourself, Izuku,” Shouta said.

Izuku blushed, then turned his head to look at Tsukauchi and Yoshimura. “W-Why is there a d-d-detective here?” he asked.

Tsukauchi smiled, but Shouta could see the sadness in his eyes. “It’s protocol for any case for an officer to do the questioning, but I was going to be doing the investigation, so I offered to come and talk to you. Does that sound okay with you?”

Izuku looked horribly confused, as though he wasn’t sure why Tsukauchi was giving him options. Not that it was actually an option, Shouta knew, but at least Izuku could feel like he was in some semblance of control.

“That’s f-fine,” Izuku mumbled, looking back down at the ground when the detective and social worker entered the room fully, taking seats on the other side of the bed.

“Izuku,” Tsukauchi began as he pulled out a tape recorder, placing it on the cot in front of him, “I’m going to be recording this conversation as evidence. Is that alright with you?”

Izuku meekly shrugged, and Tsukauchi patiently asked, “May I please have a verbal response?”

“That’s f-f-fine,” Izuku muttered back, and the detective nodded before pressing down on the record button.

“This is Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi of the Musutafu Prefecture. I’m here with Suki Yoshimura, social worker, as well as Eraserhead, Pro Hero, and Izuku. Izuku, can you state your full name and age for the recording?”

“Izuku… I- I’m t-twelve.”

Twelve, Shouta’s mind screamed at him. This child who had been crushed by the world so horribly that he saw no other answer than to jump off a fucking building, was twelve.

“Your full name, please, Izuku.”

Izuku winced, then muttered out, “M-Midoriya… Izuku M-Midoriya…”

“Do you prefer Izuku or Midoriya?”

“Izuku,” the boy immediately spouted. “J-Just Izuku, p-please.”

“Alright,” Tsukauchi nodded back. “Izuku, can you tell me about the events of tonight?”

Hesitantly, Izuku began his tale. He talked about pacing circles on the rooftop, waiting for someone to see him, waiting for someone to stop him- a cop, a bystander, a Pro Hero. He spoke about no one coming, no one caring, and he spoke about standing on the ledge. He talked about jumping- he talked about falling.

But then, Izuku described- in great detail- what it felt like when his bones realigned.

Shouta thought he was going to vomit.

“It… wasn’t p-pleasant,” Izuku finished up with, looking down at the floor. The boy’s hands started to wring at his wrists once more, and Shouta immediately placed his own hand over Izuku’s. The child lurched a bit, looking utterly shocked that Shouta was touching him- despite the fact that they had been practically glued together since long before the interview started- but still took hold of Shouta’s hand instead. He touched the knuckles on Shouta’s hand, fingertips tracing where the indent of two missing bands lay on the man’s middle and ring fingers. Shouta smirked when he saw Izuku’s mouth moving, the boy muttering silent queries to himself, before the child turned back to Tsukauchi.

“It doesn’t sound very pleasant,” Tsukauchi intoned empathetically. “Izuku, do you mind telling us about what led up to your attempt? What happened yesterday?”

“…E-Everything?” the boy whispered.

“Yes,” Tsukauchi nodded. “Anything you have to tell us can help us with your case.”

And so, Izuku went into great detail once more- the kid had an eye for it, even if it was rather horrifying.

He’d woken up in the morning to a note from his mother, saying that she was leaving the country to be with his father in America. She’d left a measly 10,000 yen inside the note. Izuku had checked his mother’s room and noticed that everything of importance- her clothing, toiletries, and other personal belongings- were all gone. Only the bare bones of furniture were left. It set Shouta’s teeth on edge how casual the kid said it all, sounding so despondent and apathetic about it.

Tsukauchi waited for a lull to interrupt Izuku. “Did she leave you alone often beforehand, Izuku?”

“Y-Yeah, I g-guess…” Izuku mumbled. “I s-saw her at C-Christmas, and then t-twice in between t-then and n-now…”

Christmas had been seven months ago. Izuku had seen his mother twice since then?

Shouta’s blood was boiling.

But it was nothing compared to what came next.

“Your mother neglected you.”

“She t-t-tried!” Izuku protested as he stood and stepped away from Shouta, much louder and more emphatic than he’d been before. It almost took the Pro Hero aback. “I- I’m Q-Quirkless- I… I was Quirkless. It’s h-hard being a m-mom to a Q-Quirkless kid… We’re w-weaker and more f-fragile and- and- I costed a lot of money a-and-”

“She still shouldn’t have abandoned you, Izuku,” Shouta said quietly. The blanket around Izuku’s shoulders had fallen due to his movements, so Shouta picked it back up and placed it back over the child’s back. “It’s a parent’s job to take care of their kid.”

Silence filled the room, save for sniffling on Izuku’s part as he tried not to cry.

Tsukauchi continued.

“Did you mother ever abuse you, Izuku?”

“Not intentionally,” Izuku told them. She unintentionally hit him, she unintentionally locked him in his room, she unintentionally didn’t buy enough groceries for him to eat.

Shouta nearly popped a blood vessel when Izuku said, “It- It wasn’t as b-bad as it c-could have b-been…”

Oh, kid… It shouldn’t have been bad at all…

Tsukauchi asked for more details about Izuku’s mother- Inko Midoriya, Shouta would remember that wicked woman’s name- before moving on to his day at school.

“It- It was like any o-o-other…” Izuku said before beginning to describe the atrocities done to him at that horrid monstrosity they called a school.

“This… Kacchan,” Tsukauchi finally said slowly, “he used his Quirk on you?”

“N-Not- Not in a b-bad way!” Izuku protested. “He was just t-t-trying to p-practice!”

There was a pattern here, Shouta noticed, and if Izuku thought it was normal to defend his abusers like this just because everyone thought he was Quirkless…

Oh, kid, you need therapy stat.

But then- oh, then- Izuku depicted what could only be described as “the biggest fuck-up in Pro Hero history”.

He didn’t say the name of the hero, but Shouta had a few guesses. Not just any hero could leap onto a building with a child latched onto their leg, after all, and only one of them was known to have been in Musutafu that very same day.

Tsukauchi looked torn when Izuku described what the hero who could only be All Might did to him. Destroyed his dreams, Shouta thought with a harsh glare in Tsukauchi’s direction. But, from the look on the detective’s face, Shouta didn’t need to argue any. It looked like All Might would be getting an earful sometime very, very soon.

Finally, they circled back around to the rooftop.

“So, the hero left you on the roof?” Tsukauchi asked, his voice strained.

“…Y-Yes, sir…”

It was Shouta who murmured, “Oh, kid…”

Izuku looked down, ashamed, and Shouta wished he hadn’t spoken.

No, he wished he knew the Number One Pro Hero’s address so he could open up a can of whoop ass on the bastard.

Tsukauchi nodded slowly. “Alright, Izuku. I think that’s all I need to hear right now.” And then, he turned off the recorder.

It was then that Yoshimura piped up.

“Izuku, do you have any other family in Musutafu that could take you in?”

“N-No, ma’am…”

“Any other family in the area?”

“N-No, ma’am…”

“…Any family in Japan?”

“…N-No, m-m-ma’am…”

Izuku’s voice was growing wobblier by the second, thick with emotion and unshed tears. The child swayed, and Shouta immediately reached forward to steady him with a hand. Izuku must have been very out of it, because he didn’t even flinch this time, instead merely sitting back into the chair next to Shouta that the man steered him towards.

Yoshimura smiled sadly at Izuku. “Alright, Izuku. Let me make a few phone calls, and we can find a good home for you to stay at for the time being, alright?”

Too numb and tired to speak, Izuku merely nodded.

Yoshimura stood, excusing herself from the room. Tsukauchi did the same, shutting the recorder off and taking it with him. However, before he could fully leave, he turned and looked towards Shouta meaningfully.

“Eraserhead’s a good hero, kid,” Tsukauchi said to Izuku even as he continued to stare at Shouta. “He’ll take good care of you for the time being, alright?”

Eraserhead’s a good hero.

Izuku’s eyes were slowly opening and closing, his head lulling as he fought back sleep. Slowly, telegraphing his movements once more, Shouta picked the child up into his arms and then laid him out on the bed.

He’ll take good care of you.

The kid had thought he was Quirkless for his entire life. Shouta was his favorite hero, probably something to do with his lack of a physical fighting Quirk. The kid’s life was so miserable that he had launched himself off a roof…

The kid was twelve.

He’ll take good care of you.

The kid was currently latching onto Shouta’s hand in his sleep, turned over on his side on the hospital cot as he tugged the appendage towards his chest.

He’ll take good care of you.

…Shouta needed to have a long talk with his partners.

…

It was a few minutes later that another knock came at the door. Shouta’s head barely tilted towards it from where he was propped up on the hospital bed, fighting back sleep. But, when a head of wispy blue hair poked in the door, a scar over the figure’s tan face, Shouta couldn’t help the tiny smile that lifted over his own features.

Oboro stepped into the room cautiously, a giant duffle bag over his shoulder, and eyeballed the child on the hospital cot.

“So small!” Oboro signed with wide eyes, inspecting the boy for a moment- taking in the lack of bandages and blood that one would have expected with a case such as this- before turning to his partner. Shouta continued to sag into the bed as Oboro tugged out a weighted blanket, but then gestured towards Izuku when the other man went to place it around his shoulders.

“Kid could use it more than me,” Shouta murmured, nodding towards the thin blanket Izuku was wrapped up in. “He’s freezing.”

Oboro nodded, doing as Shouta suggested- tucking the edges of the blanket around the child without even making him stir, something that made Shouta smile once more- before going to sit next to his partner. From out of his endless duffle, Oboro pulled out Shouta’s favorite yellow sleeping bag. Shouta immediately pulled himself inside of it, grunting for Oboro to zip him up- which his partner did dutifully- before sitting propped up against the other man’s side. Chuckling, Oboro wrapped an arm around Shouta’s shoulders, tugging his partner in further.

“Zashi’s getting the coffee.”

“Hn.”

“…You wanna talk about it?”

Shouta sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before slowly speaking. “The kid’s been abused. Badly, O. His mother, his so-called best friend, all the kids at his school- hell, some of the teachers abused him.”

Oboro hissed at that, face screwed up in anger. Shouta nestled further into his partner’s side, trying to placate the man. His snuggling must have worked, because Oboro quickly turned his attention back to Shouta rather than Izuku on the cot.

“He has scars, O… Not just abuse scars, either.”

Oboro nodded morosely. “Self-harm, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“…Sounds familiar.”

Shouta’s brow furrowed, and he grumbled out, “This isn’t about me, Oboro.”

“I know, I know,” Oboro placated gently. “But you can’t ignore the similarities, babe. Have you made an appointment with Haru yet?”

“…No, not yet.”

“Soon, babe.”

Shouta sighed, feeling the weight of a thousand sins on his shoulders- not his sins, but sins nonetheless- and nodded back. “Okay.”

The couple sat in silence for a few minutes before Oboro’s hand came up to hide inside the hood of Shouta’s sleeping bag, carding through the shorter man’s wild hair. “Sleep for a while, babe. I’ll wake you up when Zashi gets here, alright?”

“Hn… Wake me up if Izuku-”

“If your kid needs anything, I’ll get you,” Oboro teased, poking Shouta’s cheek with his nose before laying a gentle kiss on the corner of the man’s mouth. “I promise.”

“…Fine.”

And Shouta was out like a light.

Oboro pulled out his cell phone, sighing heavily when he saw all the notifications from Tsukauchi and their friends. Nemuri and Tensei had been overwhelmed with relief when they found out Shouta wasn’t missing but had been pestering Oboro and Hizashi in their group chat- the one that didn’t have Shouta in it but that the man surely knew about, entitled Sleepy Cat Protection Squad- to have Shouta call them ASAP. Considering it was a Saturday morning, the two were probably getting ready for their own daylight patrols, meaning Oboro could have a few minutes’ silence to watch over his partner and-

When he looked up at the child in the bed, Oboro was shocked to see two brilliant emerald eyes staring at him.

Emerald eyes that were utterly gleeful.

“Y-You’re…” the boy started, then cleared his throat and spoke a little louder. “You’re L-Loud Cloud!”

Fortunately, he was still speaking quiet enough as to not wake Shouta, so Oboro took the greeting in a stride. “Sure am!” he whisper-shouted back, grinning from ear to ear. “My name’s-”

“O-Oboro S-Shirakumo,” Izuku replied easily. “Y-Your Quirk is Cloud, and you w-were in the same S-Sports Festival as E-Eraserhead! I w-watched all the v-videos on HeroTube, and- and the w-way you took down Present M-Mic in the third-round w-was inspiring, Mr. Loud C-Cloud!”

Oboro was taken slightly aback but couldn’t help the way his grin softened into something more sincere at the child’s praise. “Yeah? You think?”

“H-How does your Q-Quirk work, Mr. Loud Cloud? Do you draw moisture particles from the air? Could you theoretically draw water from a villain’s body to make a cloud? Can you make storm clouds when you’re angry or upset or something, or do you just make regular clouds? And how do you ride on them, they’re clouds?! Is your body lighter than most people’s? Are your bones less dense- maybe hollow like a bird’s- to make it to where you can rest on the cloud? Or maybe it’s-”

Oboro’s face must have conveyed his surprise, because Izuku suddenly squeaked and then pulled the weighted blanket over his face. “I’m s-s-sorry,” the boy whimpered out. “I didn’t m-mean to- to- to-”

Oboro could hear the boy’s breathing hitch, could hear the hyperventilating begin, so he quickly shook Shouta awake before going to crouch next to the bed. “Hey, kiddo, I’m not mad,” Oboro said quietly. “Those theories of yours are pretty cool! I’ve never considered why I can ride on my clouds- maybe they’re denser than normal clouds- but I’m pretty sure my bones aren’t hollow.”

Shouta was blinking awake, concern taking over his features when he saw Izuku shuddering under the weighted blanket. He unzipped his sleeping bag but didn’t move to exit it when he saw Izuku’s eyes move to peek out at Oboro.

“Y-You m-m-mean it?” the boy asked, sounding a cross between desperate and disbelieving.

“Of course I do, kiddo. I try not to lie about stuff. Just causes more confusion in the long run, y’know?”

Izuku’s face was becoming more and more visible as Oboro spoke. “Y-Yeah…” the boy muttered, looking awe-struck. “That m-makes sense…”

Then, Izuku must have suddenly realized the blanket atop his body was heavier than it had been before. The boy studied the fabric beneath his fingers in confusion.

“That’s Sho’s,” Oboro told him, pointing a thumb backwards at the man in question. “But he wanted you to borrow it for now. It might be a little heavy for you, but we can find something else if you-”

“N-No!” Izuku protested, then blushed at his own outburst. “No, it’s p-p-perfect, Mr. Loud Cloud.”

“Just call me Oboro, kiddo. Can I call you Izuku?”

Izuku nodded before moving to sit up in bed.

“You can rest more if you want to, kid,” Shouta interjected before Oboro could. “Hizashi will be loud enough to wake you when they get here, anyways.”

Izuku blinked before asking, “Present M-Mic is coming, t-too?”

“Yeah,” Shouta fought back the urge to grin at Izuku’s obvious Hero worshipping of his partners. It made him feel proud of them that they could be the kind of Hero a kid would look up to like that. “They’re bringing coffee.”

“…C-Cool…”

Shouta could tell Izuku wanted to say more, but it looked like the poor kid had tuckered himself out, because he fell asleep sitting up right there on the cot.

“Poor kid,” Oboro whispered, looking horribly stricken as he noticed the burns and other scars along Izuku’s arms from where the blanket had slipped down. “A child shouldn’t have scars like that… How old did you say he was?”

“He’s twelve, O.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a while after that, just leaning against one another and drawing strength from the other’s company. Then, there came a knock at the door, and a familiar head of long blonde hair poked through. Hizashi’s red and green eyes surveyed the scene before him before he grinned, maneuvering silently into the room with four cups in a travel carrier in hand.

“I got the little listener some hot cocoa, too,” he whispered to his partners, unable to sign with said drinks in hand. “Sho, yours is black, O, yours is an iced caramel macchiato, and I got-”

“That horrendous latte you dare call coffee?” Shouta asked, to which his partner rolled his eyes.

“A matcha latte with vanilla and rose, yes, Sho.”

Shouta reached for his own coffee as Hizashi set the carrier down on an end table, but his arm couldn’t reach around both of his partners. He huffed- not pouting- and Hizashi took pity on him, handing over Shouta’s own black coffee. Shouta took a long, slow sip, savoring the heat and bitterness on his tongue. It was well-deserved and much needed after the night he’d had.

There was a lull in noise, save for their slurping, before Hizashi cleared his throat and spoke quietly.

“So, are we keeping him?”

“Hizashi.”

“What, Sho? You’ve obviously gotten attached, or you wouldn’t still be here.”

“The kid’s mom abandoned him yesterday,” Shouta grumbled out, crossing his arms as best he could with a cup of coffee in hand. “I wasn’t going to do the same. Not when I literally saw the kid come back from the dead.”

Oboro’s brow furrowed, and Hizashi sent Shouta a sorrowful glance before turning back to the kid on the cot.

“Tell us more about that,” Oboro urged his partner. “It may help you feel better.”

Shouta tensed up, mouth opening a fraction before he snapped it shut. Taking a sip of coffee, he grumbled out, “Not now. Not with the kid here.”

Silence fell over the three again. Each was left to their thoughts, Hizashi tapping his foot on the floor rhythmically, Oboro swirling his coffee with his straw, sipping ever so often, and Shouta sitting stalk-still, eyes fixated on Izuku.

“…We all have foster licenses,” Hizashi tried again, more gently this time. “And it sounds like the kid could use a loving, supportive home-”

“We work seven jobs between the three of us, Hizashi. Do you really think that-”

“Maybe just short-term, Sho, I don’t know!” Hizashi exclaimed, only to be shushed by Oboro. Lowering his voice, Hizashi continued on, “The little listener’s obviously special enough to you to care so much, so why don’t we just make sure he finds a good home, at the very least? He can stay with us while his social worker looks for another home.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Oboro shrugged, slurping at his iced coffee. “Especially with the kid’s Quirk… Resurrection won’t be seen as a heroic Quirk, after all. And we all know how Quirks like his are treated…”

Shouta glowered down at his coffee, brain awhirl with thoughts.

On the one hand, he would love to take Izuku in, even if it was only temporary- although he’d love to take the kid in for the long run, too. With a mind as sharp and clever as that? Izuku’s analysis could take him far in Heroics, or elsewhere if the kid decided against it. Shouta wouldn’t be surprised in the least if Izuku changed his mind about wanting to be a Pro after his experience with All Might… Which he’d definitely be telling his partners about later.

On the other hand, Shouta had been serious when he said they worked seven fucking jobs. They didn’t have the time to devote to a kid, much less a traumatized kid. Izuku would need a lot of attention and care. Care that they would most willingly offer, but… Would it be enough? Would they be enough?

“As much as I hate to admit it, O’s right,” Hizashi sighed, slumping down in his chair. “Poor kid wouldn’t stand a chance if he were dropped into the wrong home…”

Shouta closed his eyes, breathing in deeply through his nose. On the following exhale, he opened his eyes again, fixating them on Izuku’s slumbering body. The child had sunk down on the cot enough that only his head was propped up against the wall, tilted onto his shoulder with his face towards the three men. Peering at Izuku’s freckled cheeks, Shouta saw minute starburst scars- white and nearly blending in with the kid’s skin, but still visible if you were looking- and frowned pointedly.

He made his decision.

“Alright,” Shouta said, quiet but clear. “Let’s ask him.”

“Wait, you mean-” Hizashi started, sitting up and jittering with excitement. “Oh, Sho!”

“Zashi, inside voice-”

But the damage was done. Izuku was already sitting up in bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he yawned. Upon seeing the newcomer in the room, the boy froze up. But then, he realized who the newcomer was, and that same excitement he’d had with Oboro earlier came to light.

After a long tirade from Izuku- sleep-addled and tired, but still an effective analysis of Hizashi’s Quirk that nearly blew the blonde out of the water- followed by subsequent squeaking and flinching, Hizashi grinned at the boy.

“Wow, little listener, that’s a great idea! I’d never thought about using my Quirk underwater. Or for echolocation! You’ve got a pretty bright brain up in there, don’t ya?”

Izuku blushed, fumbling around with his own hands before moving on to wring at his wrists. “I-It’s n-nothing, P-Present Mic, s-sir.”

“Call me Zashi!” Hizashi cheered, sending the boy a wide, encouraging grin. “And I’d love to hear more about this analysis later on, little one, but in the meantime, I think Sho has a question for you…”

“Izuku,” Shouta spoke quietly but seriously, moving to disentangle Izuku’s hands. The boy flinched minutely but didn’t protest when Shouta handed over a corner of the weighted blanket for Izuku to strangle instead of his own wrist. “I still have to talk to your social worker about this, but- if it’s alright with her- would you…” Shouta paused. He had never been good at things like this. “Would you like to come and stay with us?”

Izuku’s eyes immediately began to water, and the child sniffled as he whispered out, “D-Do you mean it? You… you r-r-really w-want… me?”

“Yes,” Shouta said emphatically. “Izuku, you’re a bright kid with an even brighter future ahead of you. You just need the tools to access it.”

“Tools that we,” Oboro gestured to the three of them, “can provide.”

Hizashi piped in, “If you want us, that is.”

And Izuku burst into tears.

“Y-Y-Yes,” the child coughed out, choking on air. “Yes, I-I… p-p-please take care of me.”

“Oh, Izuku,” Hizashi crooned.

“We will, kiddo,” Oboro swore. “We will.”

He’ll take good care of you.

Tsukauchi’s words radiated in Shouta’s mind as he opened his arms in invitation, allowing space for Izuku to throw himself against Shouta’s midsection once more.

As Shouta scooped Izuku up into a loose but solid embrace, he couldn’t help but think… All of this felt so- so…

Natural.

Like it was the way the universe intended it.

Arms tightening, Shouta rested his chin on Izuku’s head as the boy sobbed.

“Let it out, Izuku,” the man encouraged. “Let it all out, kid. You’re safe now.”

You’re safe now.

With us.

Chapter Text

“Hope you’re not allergic to cats,” Hizashi teased and worried at the same time as he helped Izuku grab his meager belongings from the trunk of their car.

The kid had a single, small suitcase that held his two school uniforms- both singed beyond repair- and three other sets of clothes. In his duffle, he had a plethora of Pro Hero merch- although he’d left all of the All Might stuff behind, it being the vast majority of his collection- and an entire collection of notebooks, from 1 scratched on in red crayon, to 13 which was burned and dried crispy from having been dropped in water. Shouta had asked him about the notebook’s state, but Izuku stayed mum. It wasn’t until Oboro asked the boy about the other notebooks that Izuku mumbled out, “They’re f-for my a-analysis…”

Besides those and the red, busted-up shoes on his feet, all of Izuku’s belongings were with him. They’d left behind a few things- the threadbare navy sheets and a flat pillow, ripped towels and a few near-empty toiletries, and, of course, the All Might merch- but overall, Izuku’s entire life was wrapped up into two neat bags.

It made Oboro nauseous.

As he hefted the duffle onto his shoulder, Oboro felt a familiar pain twinge through his joints. Looking up at the sky, he huffed.

“Gonna rain?” Shouta asked him as he passed by. Anyone else would say the man’s face was neutral or apathetic, but Oboro saw the question in Shouta’s eye, the concern in the downward tilt of his lips.

“Yeah, I think so,” Oboro nodded. His aches and pains always acted up right before rain.

“W-Woah!” Izuku chimed in, looking awe-stricken. “Is t-that a part of y-your Q-Quirk, Mr. Oboro?”

Oboro smiled, reaching over to ruffle Izuku’s hair. The boy flinched backwards, nearly knocking Hizashi over from where the blonde was trying to get their janky doorknob to unlock. “Woah, little listener!” Hizashi exclaimed. “What’s wrong?”

“N-Nothing, I- I’m s-s-sorry, Mr. Oboro, I didn’t m-m-mean t-to-”

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Oboro spoke gently. He supposed his over six-foot countenance could be scary to a kid who wasn’t even five feet tall. He had a good foot and a half on Izuku, and his shoulders and hands were much larger. Maybe Oboro reminded him of somebody, or maybe the man’s size was just that imposing. Either way, Oboro should have asked before trying to touch Izuku. He said as much, and Izuku flushed a brilliant crimson.

“It’s f-fine, Mr. Oboro, s-sir!” Izuku cheeped before clamming up.

Oboro crouched to where he was facing Izuku, a warm smile over his features. “It’s not fine, and you don’t have to say that if you don’t want to, Izuku. I’ll remember to ask from now on.” And then, head tilting to the side, Oboro said, “And it’s not my Quirk that lets me know the rain is coming. It’s my past injuries.”

Izuku frowned. “In…juries?”

“Yeah, kiddo. All Pro’s get them. Some more than others, but…” Oboro shrugged, rolling his head on his neck and hearing the joints pop and crack. “That’s neither here nor there.”

“Ah-hah!” Hizashi exclaimed as he finally got the door unlocked. “Little rat bastard of a doorknob, always making me…” And then, as if realizing the others were still there, he turned to them and laughed nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I mean, uh, we should call the landlord to see if she’s gonna fix that any time soon. And we’ll have to get you a key, little one!”

Izuku’s frown deepened, his head cocking to the side in confusion. “But… I-I’m not s-staying permanently¸ a-am I?”

The three men exchanged glances, all with varying expressions.

“Maybe not, little listener,” Hizashi started slowly.

“But we still want you to be comfortable here,” Oboro interjected for his partner. “Even if you may not stay permanently, we want this to be your home for the time being… Does that sound okay?”

Rather than burst into tears like the three had quickly learned Izuku was prone to doing, the boy merely bit his lower lip, reaching out to wring his wrists. Shouta calmly placed his hand in front of Izuku instead, and the boy looked up at the man for a moment before beginning to toy with Shouta’s fingers gently.

“O-Okay…” the boy whispered meekly.

I’ll take it for now, Oboro told himself, shouldering past where Hizashi was trying to wrangle the cats back inside. He placed Izuku’s duffle on the floor, then turned to help Hizashi get Panda and Spork back inside.

Izuku tip-toed past the cats, but- being the curious bastards they were- the mewling little idiots immediately tried to trip him, curling around the boy’s ankles and jumping up on his legs.

“Down, down, you little bastards!” Hizashi chided. “Oh, sorry, Izuku-”

But the boy didn’t seem to hear Hizashi as he dropped down to his knees, allowing the cats to sniff at his face and lick his hands.

And then, Izuku giggled.

It was one of the most magical noises Oboro had ever heard.

A child, who had previously thought his life was over, was enjoying himself. Even if it was a small victory, it was still a victory.

Again, I’ll take it for now.

“Hey, kid,” Shouta said as he dropped Izuku’s suitcase unceremoniously on the rug beside the couch. “You hungry?” The man began rolling up his sleeves, Izuku looking on curiously.

And then, the child looked over to Oboro and Hizashi as if studying them, peering at their expressions and postures.

It was Hizashi who caught on first, but Oboro was quick to follow him.

“Man, I sure could use a good meal!” Hizashi cheered, following Shouta to the kitchen. “Can I help?”

“No.”

“D’aww, not even with cutting the vegetables?”

“No, Hizashi.”

Oboro glanced sideways at Izuku as the boy watched Shouta and Hizashi bickering over the half wall that separated the kitchen and living room. “I’m pretty hungry, too,” Oboro said. “Izuku, what kind of foods do you like?”

“…A-Anything w-works, really…” Izuku stammered back, now petting Panda as Spork followed her masters into the kitchen. “I- I’m n-not p-picky… Especially w-when Mom w-would only get r-rice some days…”

Well, that wasn’t concerning at all.

Oboro wondered if he should press. But really, it had been an exhausting day for all of them. Getting Izuku checked out of the hospital and placed in their care had been an all-day event, and now, all Oboro really wanted was a hot shower, a nap with his partners, and maybe a movie marathon night. Typically, he’d be the kind to want to go out with friends to unwind, but with Izuku there, and with all the memories that had been cropping up regarding the similarities between Izuku and the three Heroes…

No, Oboro would be fine with a night in.

Choosing to ignore Izuku’s concerning statement- for now- Oboro instead gestured for Izuku to follow him. “C’mon, kiddo, I’ll give you a tour of the apartment.”

It was a four-bedroom apartment, Oboro told Izuku. One bedroom functioned as their room, and another an office. Shouta was really the only one who used it, seeing as how most of his cases were confidential and he needed silence to focus. Hizashi preferred the living room where he could have the TV on, and Oboro preferred the kitchen or the bar. Oboro explained all of this as he led Izuku around, showing him either room.

The third room functioned as an “all-around room”, as Oboro introduced it. Really, it was a junk room where all their school things and mementos were kept. But Hizashi liked to practice guitar there, which was why there were soundproofing squares on the walls, and Oboro painted in the corner of the room, hence the tarp spread out. But the rest of the room was packed with boxes upon boxes of stuff.

“And this is your room,” Oboro said, opening the door to the fourth room. “It was previously our guest room, but we’ll just clean out the all-around room if anyone wants to stay over. No worries!”

Oboro had thought Izuku was going to say something about going to all the effort- as he himself would’ve as a kid- but instead, the boy was utterly speechless as he entered the room. Izuku’s head was on a swivel as he looked all around in awe. The bed was a bit larger than the one at the boy’s home was, and there was already a weighted blanket resting atop it. A desk rested against the wall across from the bed, a plain black chair sitting next to it. There was a giant beanbag in the corner, and the blinds were pulled open to allow the meager sunlight outside to filter in. The carpet was old, but clean, and the room overall smelled a little musty, unused.

Oboro was looking forward to it being homier in there.

“T-This… is f-for me?”

“Yeah, kiddo,” Oboro chuckled lightly. “What, you thought we’d set you up on the couch or something?”

Izuku merely shrugged, as though he couldn’t contemplate someone going to the effort of providing for him.

Well, from what we’ve heard of his mother, that may not be far off.

“Do you want some time to settle in?” Oboro asked. “I can bring your suitcase and duffle.”

“I c-can get t-them!” Izuku protested, but Oboro was already walking to the living room.

“Nope! No-can-do, kiddo. I’ve got it from here!”

“Got what?” Hizashi chimed in, having lost his earlier battle and been effectively kicked out of the kitchen by Shouta. “Oh! Does the little listener want to decorate?! We can go shopping!”

“N-No!” Izuku protested, waving his hands in front of himself as he paled. “I d-don’t need anything e-e-else, r-really!”

“Oh, but Izuku, you need more pillows!” Hizashi pouted. “And clothes, and school supplies, and- don’t tell me you don’t want another notebook! Oh, and we should also get-”

“P-P-Please,” Izuku croaked, tears welling in his eyes as he shook. “Please, don’t waste your m-money on me…”

Oboro could hear the shuffling in the kitchen come to a halt, Shouta clearly listening in to see what his partners did next. From his position sitting on the couch, Hizashi had also grown quiet, looking contemplative.

Turning to Izuku, Oboro lowered himself to a knee so that he was just below the preteen’s line of sight. “Izuku,” the man said softly, quietly, but loud enough for everyone to hear. “We work seven jobs between the three of us. We can more than provide the things you need, and a bit of the things you want, too. And we want to provide for you. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have taken you in.” Tilting his head, Oboro asked, “Do you understand, kiddo?”

Biting his lower lip, Izuku shook his head.

“K-Kids like m-m-me are just n-nuisances,” the boy stuttered. “We’re j-just- just annoying a-and a burden and- and- t-too much-”

Izuku was working himself up, choking on air as he stuttered, tears now falling down his cheeks. Oboro watched, heartbroken, as the child mentally beat himself up over the absolute bare minimum being provided for him.

“Izuku, kiddo… Can I hug you?”

Freezing up, Izuku looked at Oboro with wide eyes. “W-What?”

“Can I hug you?” Oboro asked again. “It’s okay if not, I just think you could use a little TLC right now-”

But before Oboro could finish, Izuku had launched himself into the man’s arms. Sobbing on Oboro’s shoulder, Izuku cuddled up into the man’s torso, bringing his arms in towards his smaller chest. Oboro’s own arms wrapped around Izuku in a tight embrace, and he swayed side to side as best as he could positioned on one knee. “There, there, kiddo. You’re alright. You’re safe here.”

It took a few minutes for Izuku’s sobs to let up, but when they did, the boy slumped into Oboro’s embrace.

Hizashi piped up, “Maybe the little one should take a nap for now, huh? I know you didn’t sleep well at the hospital, Izuku, so you wanna try out your new bed?”

Sleepily, Izuku nodded. But the boy didn’t make any movement to leave Oboro’s embrace. With a low chuckle, the man scooped Izuku up into his arms as though the boy were two and not twelve, nodding towards his partners who were watching on with stars in their eyes. Chuckling, he walked to Izuku’s new bedroom, placing the boy atop the mattress and pulling the weighted blanket over him.

Izuku’s eyes were fighting back sleep, lulling ever so often as his head also bobbed.

“Don’t worry, kiddo,” Oboro whispered to him, “I’ll wake you up when dinner’s ready, okay?”

“Mm’kay, Mr. O-Obo…ro…”

And then, Izuku was fast asleep.