Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Eraserhead calmly watches the sky from where he’s perched at the top of the building. It’s dark, even darker than most of his patrol nights. Usually, at least the moonlight and the stars offered some clarity. But today, heavy clouds covered the sky. At any moment, a storm could start.

The strong wind seemed to howl, making the winter cold even worse. Fortunately, his costume is adapted for winter. Still, he can’t help but bury his face in his catch weapon. As much as he insists to Hizashi that it’s not a scarf, he has to admit that it does a good job of keeping him warm.

“Eraserhead.” His comms buzz. “Can you see anything?”

He sighs before pressing the button on the side of his comms. He has been there for at least two hours every night for the last two weeks, observing this specific building. At first glance, it looks like a simple abandoned building, and in fact, it is. What the heroes are interested in is what happens under the building.

A doctor, wanted in 23 different countries for his human experiments, supposedly made his base of operations right here.

“No suspicious movements yet, Nedzu.” Eraserhead says.

He has to admit. These guys are good at avoiding suspicion. If it were not for Nedzu, they would still know nothing. However, this doctor is the last one responsible for the experiments Nedzu underwent; who has not yet been caught. The rat has hunted down each of the others responsible. And now it is finally time for the last of them to pay. When he learned of this, Eraserhead demanded to be part of the operation. If he’s a hero today, it is thanks to the rat. Not that he’ll ever say that aloud.

“Team A, positioned.” A female voice says. “Awaiting the signal.”

“Team B, positioned.” A male voice says. “Ready to rock.”

“Team C, positioned.” A gruff voice says. “Ready.”

“Perfect, Midnight, Present Mic, Vlad King.” Nedzu chirps.

At this moment, Eraserhead catches a movement in the building. Their entrance ticket has just arrived.

Holding his breath for a few seconds, Eraserhead waits for the perfect moment, just as the man walks by a broken window and jumps in, falling just above the man and immediately sending an elbow to his head. The knockout is immediate. He then searches him and finds his key card.

“Got it.” Eraserhead says in his comms as he walks to a hidden terminal. “Opening the doors in 3… 2… 1…” Then he swipes the card, opening all the secret doors.

The heroes start pouring into the building, and Eraserhead wastes no time going down the stairs. An alarm starts ringing, and he can hear the panic below, no doubt from the scientists trying to escape. Unfortunately for them, Nedzu has made sure to map out every exit and leave an apprehension team at each one. None of them will escape.

The other heroes soon enter and begin making the arrests while Eraserhead and Nedzu head off to look for the important documents. They need to find out what exactly this doctor was doing here. It doesn’t take long for him to find something, but he almost wishes he hadn’t.

The room resembles a large corridor. On the right wall is a row of large tubes filled with some kind of liquid. Approaching one of them, he reads what is written on the screen just in front of the tube.

Subject 01 - Kuro

Status: Deceased

Frowning, he swipes his hand across the fogged-up glass of the tube and immediately takes a step back when he sees what’s inside. Inside the tube is a boy. He can’t be older than 2 years. And according to the screen, he is dead.

Walking to the next one, he reads the screen.

Subject 02 - Shiro

Status: Deceased

And like the first tube, there’s another kid in this one. This one has white hair instead of black like the first. And he seems to be about 3 years old. Shouta repeats the process with each of the tubes. All of them have kids with a number and color associated with them. Some have mutations, but even with them, Eraserhead can’t help but notice how similar they all are.

When he arrives at the penultimate tube, he notices something different about this one. The screen in front of him is different from the others.

Subject 15 - Midori

Status: Alive

He sighs in relief, reading it. At least one is alive, then. Swiping the glass, his eyes widen. The tube is empty. Only his instincts, polished by years of Underground Heroics, allow him to jump to the side, narrowly avoiding whatever was used to try to stab him in the back.

Eraserhead looks at his assailant, who has managed to approach him without making any noise. Their steps were completely silent, even their breathing barely audible. To Eraserhead’s surprise, what is in front of him is a boy. From his looks, he would say that he is, at most, 12 years old. He is extremely similar to the other boys in the tubes. This one with curly green hair. Face rounded by the baby fat that all children have. Pale skin, looking like he rarely sees sunlight. Freckles on his cheeks forming a diamond pattern. He is wearing only shorts that cover just above his knees, barefoot, and bare chest.

His face is turned toward Eraserhead, but it doesn’t look like his green eyes - slit, akin to a cat’s, or maybe a snake’s - are registering anything. Long, dark bat wings sticking out from his shoulders. Right under the wings, there was also a tail, the tip of which stuck out of the tube that Eraserhead was just looking at. With a quick tug, he removes the tail, and liquid starts pouring out of the hole he has made in the glass. Looking at the tail, Eraserhead notices that the tip is shaped like a scorpion’s sting, and something tells him that it’s not just the shape that it’s like a scorpion.

Eraserhead is about to say something when a voice echoes through the room.

“I can see why you’re the best, Eraserhead.” Hearing the voice, the kid instantly stiffens. “You are the first to manage to avoid the S-15’s surprise attack. I hope you are not going easy on him, S-15.” The kid instantly starts shaking his head, an expression of fear on his face. “I know you wouldn’t do this.” A chuckle is heard. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you, S-15?” The kid frantically nods. “Then you know what you have to do.”

Eraserhead turns his full attention back to the kid, who’s clearly having a silent panic attack. He tries taking a step closer, and the kid’s attention immediately turns to him.

“I’m sorry.” The kid says for the first time, voice high-pitched and full of regret. “You’re really cool, Eraserhead.”

Then he flaps his wings and jumps. The shadows in the room begin to move, taking a tangible form, wrapping themselves around his legs and taking the form of talons. The talons easily grab hold of the ceiling, and the boy - upside down - opens his arms and wings. The shadows move again, this time going towards the various lamps in the room and covering them, immediately casting the room into darkness.

Eraserhead activates erasure and tries to glare where the kid just was, but nothing happens, which means the kid moved. He didn’t hear anything. The kid is too silent. Suddenly, he feels the wind shifting and jumps back, just in time to avoid a claw made of shadows that dives at him. The claw hits the ground and leaves and cuts the floor as if it were nothing. If it hits him, Eraserhead is done for. The capture weapon won’t help much, either. These claws are clearly sharper than his knife, which means that they should be able to cut through the binding cloth easily.

Another claw comes from behind, and Eraserhead rolls on the floor to avoid it. This can’t go on. He needs to find the kid.

The boy clearly does not rely on sight to find Eraserhead. Judging by his wings, he seems to have some sort of mutation, but he also showed shadow manipulation and a scorpion’s tail. Multiple quirks? Is that even possible? But considering that the boy is clearly part of an experiment, Shouta is forced to accept that he does indeed have multiple quirks. At least three, but he may have even more.

His wings look like bat wings. If he has a bat quirk, he might be using echolocation in the room, which means no matter where Shouta is, the kid will find him. He may have good enough hearing to hear his breathing and heartbeat, and if this is the case, there’s no use in trying to be silent.

So Eraserhead starts running, carefully avoiding the shadow claws and urging his eyes to get used to this darkness. He has fought in even darker places before. As much of a good work as the shadows do in blocking the light, a few rays still pass through them, and the dim light on the screens in front of the tubes is still there.

After about a minute of running, his eyes are sufficiently adapted, so Eraserhead moves on. Activating his quirk, he starts swiping through the ceiling, where he’s sure the kid is still hiding. He catches a slight movement in the corner of his eyes and snaps his focus to it. 

Almost instantly, the shadows dissipate, and the light returns to the room. Only his self-control prevents Eraserhead from blinking because of the fast return of the light. He hears a yelp, and the boy begins to fall, his wings motionless.

Eraserhead throws his capture weapon, wrapping it around the boy and pulling him close, preventing him from hitting the ground and, at the same time, restraining him. The boy tries to struggle and pull himself free, but physical strength doesn’t seem to be something he excels in.

The voice from earlier starts talking again.

“What a shame, looks like you failed, S-15.” The boy freezes, and his expression turns instantly into one of horror. “Well, I suppose I was expecting too much. Doesn’t matter, you know the consequences.” Tears start welling in the kid’s eyes, and suddenly the floodgates open.

“Please, no.” The kid says, shaking his head. “I’m a good boy. I’m a good boy. I’m a good boy. I swear I’m a good boy.”

“Kid.” Eraserhead tries calling, moving his hand slowly towards, but the kid flinches hard and tries to take a step back. But he’s still wrapped in the fabric.

“Please, don’t hurt me. I’ll be good.” The kid says. “I’m a good boy. I swear.”

“Kid. I won’t hu-” Suddenly, Eraserhead feels a sharp pain in his stomach. He looks down and sees a scorpion tail stabbing him.

“See? I did it!” The kid says, sounding more and more desperate with each word. “I’m a good boy! I did it!” 

The doors to the room burst open, and Eraserhead hears footsteps approaching. He starts feeling dizzy and falls to his knees. The fabric unwrapping from the kid, who sits down in a fetal position and keeps frantically pleading with the voice.

“NO! STOP! DON’T!” The kid screams as Present Mic approaches. “I’m a good boy! I’m a good boy. I’M A GOOD BOY!”

Eraserhead raises a hand in a halting motion to Present Mic and gets up on wobbling legs.

“It’s okay.” He says as he approaches the scared boy. “I promise I won’t hurt you. Neither will my friends. We are heroes. We save people.”

The kid stopped talking but was still sobbing and rubbing his eyes violently. Eraserhead tries extending his hand again, even slower this time, but the kid doesn’t register the motion, so he slowly sets his hand on the kid’s head. The sobbing stops abruptly, and for a moment, Eraserhead fears he made the kid freeze again. But to his surprise, the kid practically melts and leans heavily on the touch.

Eraserhead can still hear the kid sniffling, but he’s not panicking anymore.

“Kid, no one here will hurt you.” Eraserhead says. “I promise you. We won’t let anyone else hurt you. You’re safe now.”

The kid raises his head, and once again, Eraserhead notices how his eyes, despite being directed at him, don’t seem to be really focused on anything. It’s like they don’t react to anything.

“Promise?” The kid asks hesitantly.

“I promise.” Eraserhead nods. The kid stays still for a few seconds, then nods back at Shouta. Once he’s sure the kid is not about to panic again, Shouta slowly raises his hand and points at Midnight. “Is it okay if my friend uses her quirk on you? It won’t hurt, only make you sleep. And I promise there’ll be someone with you when you wake up.”

The kid opens his mouth, but then he hesitates for a while. Closing his mouth nods slowly.

“Okay.” He says, barely a whisper.

Then Eraserhead looks back at Midnight and nods. She immediately tears one of her sleeves and lets her sleeping gas flow. The kid barely inhales the gas and starts blinking heavily. A few seconds later, he slumps forward, falling on Eraserhead’s chest, and his breathing steads. Eraserhead turns to Present Mic and gives him the kid.

“Make sure he’s safe.” He says to his friend.

As soon as he’s sure the kid is fine, he finally lets himself fall down, succumbing to the pain he feels spreading from his stomach. The last thing he hears before passing out are the panicked shouts of his name coming from his friends.

Chapter Text

For as long as he can remember, he has never had a real name. S-15 is what the Doctor called him. Midori is what his older brother called him. Brat is what Shi- No! Don’t think about him. But a real name? A name to call his own? This he never had.

In the lab, he went through dozens of tests every day. The tests were painful, but he endured them silently because he’s a good boy. After the tests came the training. Flying, parkour, combat, and many others. The training sessions were exhausting, and he always ended them with bruises and sores. But he endured it all without complaining because he’s a good boy.

The Doctor said he was a good boy when he did well. As a reward, he got an apple and head pats. S-15 likes being a good boy. If he’s a good boy, he doesn’t get hurt. When he misbehaved or failed in his training, he was punished. And then Shi- Stop thinking about him!

Failure hurts. He can’t fail. He needs to be a good boy. That’s just how it works.

But then the hero came. S-15 knows what heroes are. Part of his training was to study heroes and learn how to analyze them. Finding out how their quirks work, finding weaknesses, and learning how to use them against them. This was the only training that never hurt him, and that’s why he liked it the most.

It was also the only moment he was allowed to leave the lab when he was walked through a portal so he could analyze hero fights. Because he can’t do it through TV.

S-15 never said it out loud because he knew he would be punished for it, but he always liked heroes. During the nights when he wasn’t having nightmares, he used to dream that he was a hero. Running through the cities, patrolling the streets, reassuring civilians with his mere presence. Which only made his day even worse. Because he’s not an idiot, S-15 always knew he was being trained to hunt and kill heroes. He knows that he’s a villain.

Which is why he almost started crying when the Pro Hero Eraserhead invaded the lab. S-15 knew he’d have to fight and kill the hero. If not, he’d be punished again. He’d have to see Shi- STOP. THINKING. ABOUT. HIM! Failure wasn’t an option.

And yet, he failed. The hero defeated him, and the Doctor said the dreaded words.

“ You know the consequences. ” Said the completely unimpressed voice.

And S-15 felt despair. He hadn’t failed yet . He tried to struggle, but the cloth binding him was too strong. Then, suddenly, he felt his quirks coming back. And that was the moment he attacked. He stabbed the hero with his scorpion tail, poisoning him. Maybe it was the panic, or maybe he wanted the hero to have a chance of survival, but he didn’t use his strongest poison. Instead, the poison he used is one that will cause the person to die in 2 days unless they take the antidote. But only S-15 has the antidote.

And yet, despite clearly being in pain, the hero only reassured S-15 that he wouldn’t hurt him. And despite his misgivings, S-15 found out that he wanted to trust the hero. Because he didn’t want to be a villain. And he’s tired of being a good boy.

When S-15 wakes up, the first thing he notices is the smell of antiseptic. He almost panics because it smells just like the labs he’s so used to. But then, he smells something else, it smells like… Jasmine? Slowly turning his head, S-15 notices that he can see the heat signature. Moving his hand, it tugs on something, and he quickly concludes that he’s cuffed to the bed. This must be one of the quirk-canceling cuffs that heroes use to restrain villains.

A part of him is sad for being treated like a villain, but he can’t say he doesn’t get it. He was found in a laboratory. He fought and poisoned a… hero…

THE VENOM!!!

S-15 doesn’t really know who’s there with him, but he turns towards them anyway.

“Eraserhead!” He says. “Where is he?”

The jasmine-smelling person doesn’t appear to be the least fazed by the sudden outburst. Instead, they start talking, ignoring S-15’s question.

“It’s good to see you awake.” From the tone and direction the sound is coming from, probably someone of small stature. However, the voice doesn’t have the high pitch usually associated with children. “You’ve slept for a while, S-15.”

There’s no accusation on the tone. The person doesn’t seem mad at him. They actually seem happy. But still, the name makes S-15 flinch slightly. He can’t help. He hates his name, even if he knows that they couldn’t know him as anything else.

To his surprise, this stranger seems to immediately catch on to his discomfort.

“Sorry, does that name make you uncomfortable?” They ask, and S-15 nods slowly. The only thing stopping him from curling on himself is the handcuff tying him to the bed. “Okay, I won’t call you this anymore. Do you want me to call you something specific?”

The word Midori comes to his mind, and he almost says it but stops himself. The only person to ever call him that was Aka, his older brother. The Doctor called him S-14, and he died just one year ago. Since his death, S-15 stopped using this name. What right does he have to continue using that name when he is the reason for his brother’s death?

“You can call me anything.” He says instead. “Just… Not that, please.”

“Alright, I’ll call you Pup for now.” They say, earning himself a slight chuckle from S-15. “As for myself. Hello. Am I a dog? A mouse? A bear?” He makes a slight pause. “I am principal Nedzu!” He says excitedly, then drops his voice to a serious tone. “But I was once known as C-34.”

S-15 turns his face to the creature. If they could, his eyes would be widening. C-34.

“You’re part of the C series?” S-15 asks. “Project Chimera?”

“So you heard of it…” The creature says, voice somber.

“The doctor made me go through all of his old projects.” S-15 says, rubbing his eyes slightly. “It was hard…”

“I’m sorry if my question sounds rude. You can refuse to answer if you want to.” Nedzu says. “Are you completely blind, or just partially?”

S-15 brings the hand not tied to the bed in front of his face and makes a waving motion. His eyes don’t move or acknowledge the motion.

“At the moment. I’m completely blind.” S-15 explains. “Usually, I use echolocation and heat detection to see. But…” He shakes his cuffed hand. “I can’t right now.” He sighs. “You said I slept for a while. How long?”

“About 28 hours.” Nedzu replies. “Someone was with you the whole time like Eraserhead promised.”

28 hours!?

“Eraserhead!” S-15 says. “Where is he? I need to see him!”

“Eraserhead is in observation at the moment. The doctors are working hard to find an antidote to the poison in his body.” Again, there’s no accusation in his tone. He’s just stating facts, but these facts still make S-15 flinch.

“They can’t.” He says. “My venom is not like a scorpion’s venom. They can’t make an antidote without me. Eraserhead will be dead for sure if he doesn’t take the antidote in the next 20 hours. And he will need it in the next two hours if you want him to recover without aftereffects.” He takes a deep breath. “Let me see him. I have the antidote.”

“You do?” Nedzu asks curiously. “That’s quite rare.”

“I think it’s a safety mechanism from my scorpion quirk.” S-15 says. “I’m not immune to my own poison, but I can administer the antidote to any of my venoms through my tail.” This tail is not visible at the moment. Scorpion is a transformation quirk, so it was deactivated at the moment his quirk was suppressed. “Please. I can’t let him die because of me. He saved my life.”

S-15 hears a sigh, and the creature jumps to the floor. He probably was sitting on a high chair. Steps come towards S-15, who turns to face the creature. He hears an iron sound, and the handcuff is taken off the bed.

“As much as I wish I could, I can’t free you yet.” Nedzu says. “So until we are at Eraserhead’s room, the cuffs stay.”

“That’s okay.” S-15 replies, getting down from the bed.

He doesn’t react when his bare feet touch the cold floor. The floors in the labs were much colder. But when he tries to take a step forward, he instantly trips over something and falls down.

S-15 was born blind, but he came to rely heavily on his echolocation to see the world. As long as there’s some kind of sound, he can “see” rough outlines of everything close to him. His hearing is good enough to pick on heartbeats and breathing. And his heat sensor lets him see the outlines of people. But at the moment, he has none of that. It’s disorienting.

“Do you want to hold my paw, Pup?” S-15 hesitates for a few seconds but nods and slowly reaches for the creature’s paw.

It’s okay. He won’t hurt me. He repeats continuously in his head like a mantra and forces himself not to flinch when he feels the fuzzy hand touching his.

(Unknown to him, he was muttering the words, and Nedzu heard everything. Seeing how afraid this Pup is from a simple touch makes the Chimera’s blood boil.)

Nedzu carefully guides S-15 through the corridors to a specific door. He doesn’t even need a sharp hearing to pick up on a conversation going on inside. Nedzu knocks and immediately opens the door, not waiting for a response. S-15 panics for a second but follows after the Chimera.

He instantly regrets and wishes he had waited outside. Again, he doesn’t need his quirk to know that everyone in the room is looking at him. He stays quiet and lowers his head.

“Nedzu-San.” A male voice says. “What are you doing here?”

“The Pup wanted to see his hero.” Nedzu replies. “So I brought him here.” With a gentle tug - S-15 almost forgot he was holding his paw - he pulls S-15 inside and guides him towards the bed. “Here we are, Pup.” S-15 can hear labored breathing in front of him, no doubt coming from Eraserhead. “Are you ready?”

S-15 nods, and then he feels the handcuff being removed from his wrist. The result is instantly. Everything sounds louder like he just removed earmuffs. He’s able to see all the heat spots in the room again. His wings, limp on his back until now, start moving again. And he can feel every single shadow in the room, as well as know everything that’s touching them.

S-15 ignores the murmuring of the two other heroes and focuses on the hero on the bed. From the heat, he can see the hero has a heavy fever. He wouldn’t be surprised if he’s at the point of having hallucinations. He’s sure the hero is flushed and sweaty.

S-15 calls on his tail, which quickly materializes, no doubt opening a hole in the hospital gown he’s wearing. He hears a gasp but ignores it. This needs to be fast. The longer it takes, the more pain it’ll cause.

Taking a deep breath, he plunges the stinger into the hero’s arm and quickly pushes the antidote into his body.

“SHOUTA!” S-15 flinches at the scream and immediately pulls its tail back, letting it retract back into its body and disappear. Then he takes a step back.

Almost instantly, the hero’s breathing calms down, and his temperature starts dropping back to safe levels. S-15 turns around, but he can’t face any of the heroes in the room. Not when it was his fault that this hero was in this state.

“The venom is neutralized.” He says, extending back his arm towards Nedzu so he can put back the cuffs. His voice almost a whisper. 

Before anyone could say anything, S-15 hears shifting from behind him and freezes. He slowly turns around and sees Eraserhead sitting on the bed, staring at him. No one should wake up that fast after being in such a bad state. A bad state that he was in because of me.

Feeling tears welling in his eyes, S-15 lowers his head, trying to avoid the hero’s gaze.

“I’m sorry.” He says, and before anyone can reply, he dives into the open window at the room.

As soon as he’s out of the room, he opens his wings and starts flying upwards. He’s not trying to flee. Not really. But he can’t face Eraserhead right now, not after being the reason why the hero almost died. He knows he wasn’t supposed to be free. The heroes will probably treat him like a real villain when they find him. But that’s okay. He deserves it. He’s just happy that Eraserhead is safe now.

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .- -- .- --.. .. -. --. / ... ..---

The pain stopped. Just a moment ago, Shouta felt like he was constantly being poked on the chest with a flaming spear. And yes, he knows what it feels like to be touched by a burning blade. He has a scar on his side from the time he had to cauterize a stab wound. But suddenly, all the pain is gone.

His friends probably thought he was asleep, but the truth is that he hadn’t slept at all since the pain started. He just couldn’t. So when the pain stopped, he almost immediately started getting up. He wasn’t surprised to find Hizashi and Nemuri in his room. But Nedzu and the kid from the lab were more of a surprise.

The expression on the kid’s face was almost more painful than the venom, though. In his 10 years of hero work, Shouta never saw so much guilt in someone so young, and he wants nothing more than to embrace this boy and tell him that everything is alright.

But before he could say anything, the kid lowers his head and mutters a quick “I’m sorry” before jumping out of the fucking window. In his panic, Shouta almost jumps after him, but he sees the boy opening his wings and flying to the hospital’s roof. So he quickly puts on his capture weapon - which was on the desk next to his bed - and goes back to the window.

“Shou!” Zashi stops him. “What are you doing?”

“I need to find him, Zashi.” Shouta replies, sounding a bit desperate. “I can’t leave him alone.”

“You were in bed writhing in pain not even five minutes ago, and now you want to jump out of a window?” Zashi argues. “Are you crazy?”

“I’m fine, Zashi. I promise.” Shouta assures. “But I don’t think the kid will be if we don’t find him soon.”

“I have to agree with Shouta-Kun. We need to find the Pup as soon as possible.” Nedzu chimes in. “And I really think Shouta-Kun is the most likely to get a positive reaction from him.”

“But, what if…” Zashi starts.

“I can assure you the Pup won’t attack Shouta-Kun again.” Nedzu says. “He did ask me to bring him here just so he could cure him after all.”

“He’s right, Zashi.” Nemuri says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I know you were worried about Shouta, but blaming the kid is unfair.”

“I… I know.” Zashi deflates. “Alright, you can go. But at least take the stairs.”

“Thank you, Zashi.” Shouta says, stepping closer and wrapping him in a quick embrace. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Zashi replies, then points to the chair next to the bed. “There are clothes for you. Unless you want to run around in a hospital gown. I think the kid can wait 3 more minutes for you to get dressed.”

Shouta wastes no time in getting dressed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants, a shirt, and a jacket, and then he jumps out of the window, ignoring the indignant cry from Zashi. Like he wasn’t expecting Shouta to do exactly that.

Shouta climbs quickly, but he has to stop himself from jumping too fast to the rooftop. Scaring the kid right now won’t be good. So he slowly raises himself to the roof. He finds the kid easily, with his wings curling protectively around him and the scorpion tail limp on the ground.

“What do you suppose I should do, then?” The kid asks someone. “I’m not running away! Whatever punishment they choose, I’ll have to accept.” Then a sigh. “I know where villains go. If they want to throw me at Tartarus. So be it. I would deserve it.” He huffs. “I’m not breaking my promise! They won’t kill me! They are heroes!” The kid growls. “Do you see Endeavor anyw-” Suddenly, he turns his face to Shouta. “Eraserhead.” And he lowers his head again, trying to hide behind his wings.

Shouta wants to ask who the kid was talking to, but he doubts that’s a good moment. There are a lot of worrying things the kid just said that need to be addressed first. Like how he thinks he’ll be treated like a villain and is expecting to be thrown at Tartarus or even killed.

To be fair, the quirk-canceling cuffs the kid woke up with probably didn’t give him a good impression of his situation. His friends may think that Shouta was unconscious or out of it, but he heard everything they talked about in his room. The only reason they had to put it on the kid was because his tail was lashing at anyone who got too close while he was sleeping. Though Shouta has a few words to say to whoever decided they should cuff the kid to the bed.

The kid is shivering, although Shouta can’t say for sure if it is from cold or fear. It could be both; it is a winter night, and the kid is wearing only a hospital gown with rips in the back for his wings. Despite his clear mutations, he has no fur.

Shouta slowly approaches, and the kid’s tail tenses up, rising up in attack position, but shortly thereafter, it retracts back into his body and disappears.

“I said it before, and I’ll say it again, Bitten.” Shouta starts. “We aren’t going to hurt you. Also, thank you for saving me.”

“You shouldn’t have needed saving in the first place.” The boy replies, shaking his head. “It’s my fault you were like that in the first place.”

“It was the doctor’s fault, not yours.” Shouta replies. “You were a victim. You’re not to blame for what he made you do before.”

“That’s not how it works.” The kid replies, shaking his head. “I might not have wanted to hurt you, but I did it anyway. I didn’t want to help the Doctor, but I still analyzed heroes for him. How many heroes are dead because of what I did? I’m a villain!!”

“Bitten, I’ve been a hero for 10 years. I met a lot of villains. I fought a lot of villains. I arrested a lot of villains.” Shouta looks at the kid, smiling. “I know how a villain looks, acts, and thinks. And let me tell you, a true villain, don’t give a fuck about how awful they are. If you’re a villain. I am All Might.”

Shouta internally cheers at the little giggle he gets from the kid, but it’s short-lived as the boy looks down again.

“Do I even deserve to be alive?” The boy asks. “I’m not even a real human being.”

Shouta definitely doesn’t know what this means, but he’s not gonna let this kid question if he should exist.

“Nedzu isn’t human. But he’s a living being, and as such, he deserves to be alive. You could be literally a monster, and you’d still deserve to live.” Shouta says.

“I promised Aka I would live.” Shouta doesn’t know who this Aka is, but they sound like someone important. “He’s the one who deserved to be here, not me. But the Doctor chose me instead of him.”

So, on top of all the problems the boy undoubtedly possesses, he is also dealing with survivor’s guilt. This boy needs therapy yesterday.

“Bitten, you might not understand now. But I want to help you.” Shouta says. “Can I try?”

“Are you sure?” The boy asks. “I’m the reason why you almost died.”

“And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” Shouta says, not an ounce of hesitance. “Because I’m a hero.”

“I…” The kid hesitates. “I want to be a hero too. I never wanted to be a villain!”

“You can.” Shouta replies. “I’m sure you’ll be a great hero, Problem Bitten.”

“What did you call me?” The boy asks.

“Problem Bitten? I tend to call my kids’ Problem Children.’” Shouta explains. “And well, you’re a baby bat. So, a Bitten. You don’t like it? I can stop.”

“No, please.” The boy shakes his head. “S-15 is the only thing the Doctor called me. I don’t want to be S-15 anymore.”

“Then you won’t.” Shouta replies. “You can have your own name now.”

“Can you choose instead?” The boy asks. “I don’t think I can choose.”

Shouta thinks for a bit. This kid, who has been through so much, and now finally escaped. He deserves a good name. A better name than Rooftop, which would be Shouta’s go-to name had he found a cat on a rooftop.

After the “Long” period he had been in the lab, he finally got to the “Exit.”

“How about Izuku?” Shouta asks, reaching slowly toward the boy’s head. The boy, surprisingly, doesn’t flinch. Instead, he practically melts when Shouta pats his head.

“I-zu-ku.” The boy says, testing the word. “Izuku. Izuku. I like it. Can I be Izuku?”

“If you want, the name is yours.” Shouta confirms. “My name is Aizawa Shouta.”

And despite everything that this boy - that Izuku - no doubt suffered along his life, he gives Shouta a smile that makes his heart jump. No matter what, Shouta promises that he’ll protect Izuku. This kid deserves to be happy.

Chapter Text

Whether it’s nerves or instincts, Shouta can’t tell, but Izuku can’t sleep at all during the night. It’s evident from the previous interaction that Izuku is touch-starved, but at the same time, he’s terrified of any kind of touch other than head pats or hair ruffles. He especially shows fear when someone approaches him with an open hand.

But his fear doesn’t seem to extend to covered hands. These observations paint a horrible picture in Shouta’s head. One involving some kind of five-point activation quirk. But to help reassure the boy, despite not having a touch-based quirk, Shouta takes a pair of gloves he carries with him and rips off three of the fingers, making a kind of makeshift artist’s gloves.

This seems to be the right action as after doing that, the last of Izuku’s hesitation on approaching Shouta seems to disappear. Shouta takes it as a victory when the boy curls up in his lap and doesn’t flinch at his touch. Resting his head on Shouta’s chest, he drapes his wings over them like a blanket, and they stay like this for the few hours left until morning.

They don’t say anything more, and frankly, it’s not necessary. Saying anything feels like it would break the calm spell both are in. The little squeaks Izuku makes as Shouta pets his head are more than enough to fill the silence. The sun is already rising when Izuku finally falls asleep still on Shouta’s lap.

It’s only a few minutes later that the door to the room opens, and Zashi enters. Seeing the scene, Zashi screeches, which Shouta thankfully is fast enough to use his quirk before all the windows in the block are broken.

“Quiet, Zashi!” Shouta hisses, then looks down at the kid who, besides trying to curl even closer to Shouta, didn’t seem to have noticed. “He has just fallen asleep. Don’t wake him up.”

“Sorry. Sorry.” Zashi replies, pulling up his phone. “But this is too cute not to react, you know?” He explains as he takes a ton of pictures while he knows Shouta can’t stop him. Not without waking Izuku up.

“Bastard.” Shouta hisses. See if he will come to the rescue of this blond traitor the next time there’s a beetle on his desk. “Everything set?”

“Yup. You just have to sign a few papers, and both of you can be discharged.”

“Great.” Shouta moves to put Izuku on the bed, but the kid whimpers and holds him tighter.

“Quite clingy, huh?” Zashi comments. “Hard to believe he was terrified of touch a few hours ago.”

“He still is.” Shouta replies, showing his hands. “At least, five finger touches. I think he has experienced a five point quirk before.”

“Judging by his reaction, multiple times actually.” Zashi says. “Poor little listener.”

“I think the only reason why he’s so clingy is that he’s too tired to see what he’s doing.” Shouta adds. “But at least he’s relaxed right now. Small victories.”

“Well, I brought a few clothes for the little listener, but I don’t think he’s in a good state to change right now.” Zashi says, eyeing the sleeping Bitten. “But it’s chilly outside, not to mention a hospital gown isn’t exactly something to wear in public.”

“Pass me that blanket, it’ll do for now.” Shouta points to the blanket on the bed Nemuri had brought them last night before the visiting hours ended. “He can get dressed when he wakes up.”

It takes a bit of maneuvering since the kid doesn’t want to let go of Shouta for a single second, but Shouta is good with “sticky” situations. He manages to wrap Izuku in the blanket, loose enough that it won’t hurt his wings, and then they leave the room. Another thing Shouta is good at is ignoring the stares he can feel on his back as he walks through the hospital with a kid clinging to him like a koala.

He is sure it must be quite the scene for the nurses and doctors. After all, Shouta is a regular in this hospital. This is what happens when you work alone on night patrols in the worst parts of the city. Shouta has enough stab scars on his abdomen to resemble a piece of abstract art.

Being such a regular in this hospital, most nurses and doctors already know him, including his grouchy personality, his resting bitch face, and his tendency to flee the hospital at the first opportunity. Reconciling this mental image, with the man who still has his resting bitch face but at the same time is holding a child wrapped like a burrito in a blanket with all the tenderness of an experienced dad, must be a bizarre scene.

Thankfully, no one tries to talk to him, so the hardest part about their discharging process is maneuvering Izuku enough so he can sign the papers without having to wake up the boy. Though it doesn’t look like he’ll be waking up anytime soon. Shouta also pointedly avoids the amused expression of his husband as they go to the car.

“Are you still going to deny being a Dad?” Zashi jokes as he enters the car.

“If I wasn’t holding the kid, I’d be punching you right now, Zashi.” Shouta replies, glaring at his husband, who just laughs at him.

“Your glare is much less effective when there’s a little listener clinging to you, Shou.” Zashi says.

“Shut up, you’ll wake him up.” Shou warns, and Zashi raises his hands in mock surrender. 

“I know you want to go home.” Zashi says as he turns on the engine and starts pulling out of the parking lot. “But Nedzu asked for an emergency meeting at UA. He didn’t say much, but I believe it’s about Izuku.”

Shouta sighs, looking down at Izuku, who’s still sleeping in blissful ignorance.

“Let’s go, then.” Shouta says. “Let’s not keep the rat waiting.”

“Understood, Shouchan!!” Zashi says, completely unaffected by the glare he receives for the nickname.

The trip to UA is silent except for Izuku’s squeaks and the radio playing low, with Zashi humming some song that Shouta doesn’t recognize. He has never been a big fan of music, national or foreign.

Just before getting out of the car, Shouta looks at his watch and huffs in frustration. But of course, the Rat will make Shouta walk through the halls at the busiest hour of the school, except for lunchtime, with a Problem Bitten clinging to him. So much for his reputation.

“Let’s get this over with.” Shouta grumbles, opening the car door and getting out.

Crossing the corridors, the students quickly make way for him. Shouta would have to be deaf and blind not to notice the students whispering and pointing at him, but no one has the courage to try to question anything. And fortunately, the way to the meeting room is quick. As much as the UA is a labyrinth, the school has optimized paths for those who know them.

Shouta doesn’t bother to knock before entering. As expected, He and Zashi are the last ones to arrive, but the surprise is the two guests there. Detective Tsukauchi is actually an expected addition since his lie-detection quirk makes him invaluable to any kind of investigation. But the second one, a tall and ridiculously scrawny man wearing an extremely oversized yellow suit, not so much.

Narrowing his eyes at the blond, Shouta turns to Nedzu as he walks to one of the two empty chairs left. To his left is Nemuri, and to his right, Zashi takes the last chair.

“What is the number one hero doing here?” He throws the bait.

The blond coughs blood and turns to Shouta with widened eyes.

“That’s supposed to be a secret!” He says. “How do you know that?”

“Because you just confirmed it.” Shouta replies with a smirk, ignoring the curious glances Nemuri is throwing at the kid still in his arms. “After so many years working as a hero, one would expect that you know how to deal with Undergrounds.”

The man sighs and gets up.

“Well, no sense hiding it now. My name is Yagi Toshinori, and…” The man flexes his arms, and his body inflates like a balloon. “I AM HERE!”

The man briefly explains to the staff about the injury he suffered a few years ago, which caused him to lose a lung and his stomach. And how this wound limited his time as hero to five hours daily, and that time is getting shorter. 

After that, Nedzu, who obviously already knew it, passes along the staff a bunch of NDAs for them to sign. Wise. A wound like this becoming public would not only cause panic but would also put the hero’s life at risk.

“Now that this is solved.” Shouta says and turns to his boss. “Can we go to the point?”

“I agree with Young Aizawa.” Yagi says. “I came here because you insisted I needed to know about this, but what is it?”

“It has to do with that man.” Nedzu says, pulling a folder. “As you know, after all some of you came with me, a few days ago, we raided a secret laboratory belonging to a man wanted in many countries. The man, who called himself Dr Hollow - real name Ishi Tucker - has been apprehended and sent to Tartarus, where he’s waiting for his final sentence. He’ll mostly likely receive death penalty for all his crimes, but that’s besides the point. At the lab, we found a lot of evidence of human experimentation, and we were able to rescue one of the victims. But I found out that the experiments are worse than we thought.” Putting the folder in the center of the table, everyone sees the writing “Project Successor” on it.

“Project Successor?” Shouta asks, glancing down at Izuku. “Successor for who?” 

“The Project Successor is a step forward from Project Chimera, responsible for my creation.” Nedzu explains. “The experiments I underwent were aimed at creating quirked animals. I am one of the three successes and unfortunately the only survivor.” He rubs the scar on his eye as he explains. “But the Successor series had a different objective. Creating an individual capable of holding multiple quirks.”

Everyone in the room gasps, but Yagi and Tsukauchi look particularly unsettled by the news.

“Yes, Yagi, it’s as you think.” Nedzu says. “This kid-” He points at Izuku. “Was created by one of All for One’s doctors. And the ultimate goal of the project was to create a successor to the boogieman of the underground.”

 Hearing this, All Might jumps from his chair, already buffing up.

“Why is he here then? ” All Might demands. “ Why is such a dangerous creature not locked?”

The loud voice almost wakes Izuku up, who lets a sad whimper and tries to curl closer to Shouta.

Shouta turns to All Might and activates his quirk. Immediately the blond buffon deflates.

“This kid didn’t sleep at all this night, Yagi. Wake him up and I’ll knock off all of your teeth.” Shouta threatens. “Scare him, and you’ll lose your other lung. Now, behave like an adult and sit down, Nedzu still has more to say.”

“Thank you, Shouta-Kun.” Nedzu says, and it’s clear he’s not happy with the interruption. “Continuing, I’d like to warn that what we discovered is a little disturbing. The experiments were made using a mixture of 2 sets of DNA. The first one belonged to a quirkless kid. Some of you might recognize the name Akatani Mikumo.”

Shouta instantly grits his teeth at the name. Every single Underground hero who at least pretends to care about their job knows this name.

Akatani Mikumo was a quirkless kid who disappeared about 6 years ago. The kid was six at the time and basically disappeared one day while coming back from school. What makes Shouta’s blood boil is how horribly negligent the police were with the case. After barely one week of searching(and really badly), they declared the kid dead and closed the case.

Looking at Tsukauchi, the man’s expression says that he agrees with Shouta’s feelings. Not that he could do much at the time, Tsukauchi didn’t have nearly as much influence as he has nowadays, so his hands were tied.

“Izuku is the 15th experiment, also known as S-15 by the doctors.” Nedzu continues. “He’s a clone made by a mixture of All for One’s DNA to allow him to have multiple quirks, and Akatani Mikumo, because it was concluded that a human without quirk factor has a better chance of adapting to multiple quirks.”

“So, he’s not even a real human.” Yagi grumbles but doesn’t interrupt again.

“Many clones were made in the last 6 years, all at the same time. They have at most a few days apart.” Nedzu keeps explaining. “But most of them were failures. The proportion used in the genetic code has to be exact. Too much of All for One’s DNA and the clone becomes unstable, dying due to their own quirks. Too little, and the quirkless gene ends up winning. Those were…” He grits his teeth. “Discarded.”

Shouta remembers the tubes and the kids. The first ones seemed to have died between 2 and 5 years. Then the next ones all died at most at age 6. Suddenly, what the kid said yesterday makes more sense to Shouta.

“Do I even deserve to be alive? I’m not even a real human being.”

“Two exceptions exist.” Nedzu continues. “S-14, and S-15.” Shouta looks once more at Izuku and gently runs his hand through his curls. “They were technically a success, except that each one had a… let’s call it a defect.” He sighs and slides S-14’s file to Shouta. 

Looking at the file, Shouta sees another kid. The resemblance to Izuku is so uncanny that if not for this other kid looking a bit younger, he’d say they’re twins. This one had red eyes and hair.

“Aka…” Shouta says softly.

“Could you repeat that please, Shouta-Kun?” Nedzu asks.

“Izuku talked a bit about an older brother. They called each other Aka and Midori. Izuku said he promised him that he would live.” He doesn’t say who is who because it should be obvious since no one in the room is colorblind. Still, one thing isn’t adding up. Mikumo was kidnapped 6 years ago, but Izuku looks 12. “What about Mikumo?”

“He’s dead.” Nedzu says. “The body is preserved, and it looks like he was about 10 when he died.” So, he was alive for at least 4 years after his kidnapping. This is why Shouta hates quirkism so much. “I know it’s an old case, but I’m already looking at all the policemen and heroes involved. They will pay for this negligence.”

“Good.” Shouta nods. “I found S-14 in the lab, he’s also dead, despite being a success.”

“As I said, they had a defect. S-14 didn’t have any sense of touch. This meant that he couldn’t feel pain. On paper this might appear a good thing, but there’s a good reason why living beings feel pain.” Nedzu explains. “After a training session, he had an internal wound that he didn’t notice because of the lack of pain. The wound ended up costing his life.”

The room falls silent for a few seconds.

“And Izuku is blind, right?” Shouta asks.

“That’s right, Shouta-Kun.” Nedzu confirms. “Izuku is blind, which is not such a big problem considering his quirks.”

“What are his quirks?” Yagi asks warily. “How many he has?”

“Six.” Nedzu replies. “4 mutations, 1 emitter, 1 transformation.”

Shouta already identified 3. He wonders what else the Bitten has.

“That’s a lot.” Nemuri says. “What is it?”

“Well, let’s start with the mutations.” Nedzu says. “First, and most obvious, Bat. You can see the wings, and a few are probably hearing these squeaks. He also has echolocation and his hearing is good enough that he can hear our heartbeats.”

Pretty standard, to be fair. It’s evident that the bat instincts are the most prominent ones. Gently, Shouta tugs on Izuku’s lips and takes a look at his teeth. They aren’t that different from human teeth, to be honest, and he doesn’t have sharp fangs.

“Not a vampire bat, I assume.” Shouta says.

“Correct. Izuku is a fruit bat.” Nedzu replies. “And keep this in mind, we’ll be going back to this later. Now, his second quirk is called Snake. And like Bat, it’s self explanatory. Izuku is flexible like a snake, and can detect heat signatures like one too. Well, not quite like one, his range is much bigger. The best comparison I can make is thermal vision.”

“Well, I guess this explains why he was so disoriented when he was wearing the quirk canceling cuffs.” Zashi says. “He lost everything he used to locate himself.”

“Next! Goat.” Nedzu continues, ignoring Zashi’s comment. “This one upgrades his agility, and his balance sense. Just like a goat, his balance is nearly perfect. There are a few registers that indicate that he could have developed horns, so it’s assumed he’s a polled goat.”

Izuku hair is really soft. It must be like goat’s fur. Judging by the volume, he must have his winter fur all year round. 

“And last one, regeneration.” Everyone looks at him wide-eyed. “It seems like he has a regeneration quirk that gets stronger the more he uses. It’s strong enough to heal things like scars and maybe even lost limbs, so we don’t know what kind of old wounds Izuku might have.”

Shouta looks at Izuku worriedly.

“I can do a few tests later.” Chiyo says. “I might be able to find something, no matter how strong a quirk is, there’s always something left behind.”

“Thank you, Chiyo-Chan.” Nedzu replies. “Now, for his emitter quirk…”

“Shadow Manipulation, right?” Shouta asks. “It was the main quirk he used when fighting me in the lab.”

“Exactly, Shouta-Kun.” Nedzu grins. “Izuku can control any kind of shadow in a 100 feet radius. He can make the shadows tangible enough to use them as weapons. The more shadows he has access to, the best he can fight. So this quirk is less effective if there’s a lot of light.”

“He obviously knows how to work around this weakness.” Shouta replies but doesn’t elaborate. “The last one?”

“Scorpion.” Nedzu says, sounding a lot less cheery. “It’s a transformative quirk that gives him a retractable scorpion stinger. He has a series of venoms he can apply using the stinger, and also the antidote for them.”

Yeah, Shouta is well acquainted with this one. The small puncture scar in his stomach would know.

“You said yesterday that his tail was lashing so he had to be put on quirk suppressants.” Shouta says.

“It seems that while his dominant part is the bat, his other animal quirks also have instincts.” Nedzu replies. “Scorpions are very aggressive, so his tail tends to lash when he’s surprised. I’d say Izuku knows that, after all, he has forced the tail back a lot of times in our presence, despite obviously feeling more comfortable having it exposed.”

With the explanation completed, everyone in the room falls silent, processing the information they have just received. The other heroes look at Izuku with varying reactions. Some are wary, and others have pity. And then, there’s Yagi, who looks at Izuku with pure hatred.

“He’s too dangerous to be free.” Yagi says. “He’s not even a real human, that’s not his place.”

“Not a real human?” Shouta repeats. “He might be a clone, but this doesn’t make him any less human than us, Yagi.”

“You heard Nedzu!” Yagi replies a lot louder, and Izuku whimpers again. “He has been made to be All for One’s successor. He has his blood! He shouldn’t be allowed to be free!”

Then he buffs again and starts walking towards Shouta.

“If you won’t do the right thing. I will!” And he extends his hand to grab Izuku.

Shouta is not having any of that. He glares and activates Erasure again, and at the same time, a whip wraps around Yagi’s arm, and Zashi grabs it with enough force to bruise.

“Step away from the kid, Toshinori.” Shouta looks to the side and sees Tsukauchi pointing a taser gun at Yagi.

“Naomasa…” Yagi says. “You heard it. You know why-”

“Yagi, are you really intending to hurt a 6 year old child?” Nedzu asks.

“6?” Yagi turns to him, spitting blood. “What do you mean, 6?”

“Didn’t you hear?” Shouta asks. “Akatani disappeared 6 years ago, none of the clones can be older than that.”

“Exactly, the clones age twice as fast as normal people.” Nedzu explains. “That is until they get to age 18, after that their growth rate will be half of a normal human until their actual and apparent age matches. So, he’ll look 18 at 9 years old. And after that he’ll take 18 years to get to age 27. But while his apparent age is 12, he is a 6 year old child. And his mind will reflect that.” Then he looks at Shouta. “You don’t look surprised.”

“It makes sense when you look at how he acts.” Shouta replies. “I’m sure he was trained to act like he’s older, but when he’s tired or scared, he acts like a little kid.”

“I mean, he is clinging to Shou like a baby bat.” Zashi points. “Most 12 year olds don’t do this anymore.”

“Still.” Yagi tries again. “He’s dangerous!”

“And aren’t you?” Nedzu asks. “You could level the entire city if you wanted. If you ask me, you’re more dangerous than him.”

“What? I wouldn’t! I am-”

“And yet, you’re acting like he will just because of who created him.” Shouta replies. “Leave, Yagi.”

“But-”

“Let’s go, Toshinori.” Tsukauchi says.

“But, he -”

“Lets. Go. Toshinori.” Tsukauchi says again. Yagi nods and follows the detective out of the room. Just before leaving, Tsukauchi looks back at them and bows. “I’m sorry for that.”

After the door closes, Shouta hears a whimper and looks down, finding a pair of scared green eyes open despite being unseeing.

“Hey there, Problem Bitten. Are you okay?” Shouta asks.

“He’s scary.” Izuku sleepily replies. “Safe?”

“Yes, you’re safe.” Shouta says. “Do you want something?”

“I’m hungry.” Izuku replies.

“Alright.” Shouta smiles and looks up just in time to grab an apple Nedzu threw at him. He’s about to say something when he sees Izuku making a grabbing motion towards the apple. He must have felt the smell or something. “Here.”

Izuku grabs the apple and happily bites on it. As he eats, Shouta looks back at Nedzu.

“He’s a fruit bat.” Nedzu explains. “Fruits, preferably raw, will have to be his main diet.”

Shouta nods and looks down, just in time to see Izuku taking the last bite and facing the apple’s core with teary eyes. Nedzu quickly throws him another one, and he gives it to Izuku.

-- . .- -. .-- .... .. .-.. .

Naomasa is pissed. This isn’t really uncommon for him. When you work as a detective for long enough, you are prone to see the most infuriating things in society. For instance, the extreme negligence in which the Akatani case was regarded just because it was about a quirkless kid makes his blood boil. If the police had taken the case seriously, the kid could still be alive.

But at the moment, what is really making him furious is the man he calls his best friend.

“What were you thinking, Toshinori?” He asks. “Making a scene like that? Attacking a child?”

“You heard then, Naomasa.” Toshinori replies. “That thing isn’t a child, it’s just a clone. And it has that man’s blood.”

“That ‘thing’, Yagi, never asked for that.” Naomasa replies. “He never asked to be made by a psycho doctor. It’s not his fault.”

“I never said it was. But it doesn’t change the fact. He’s dangerous and has All for One’s blood.” Toshinori replies.

“And he’s inherently evil just for that?” Naomasa asks. “Then aren’t you too?”

“What?” Toshinori replies, spitting blood in his surprise.

“You told me the story, Toshinori. And I’m sure you didn’t forget.” Naomasa says. “Your quirk came from him. Came from his brother. If anything that has any relationship with that man is evil, then the first user was too. And so are you.”

“That’s different!” Toshinori replies. “The first user opposed his brother! He fought him! He proved that he wasn’t like him.”

“And how is the kid going to prove the same, if you don’t give him the chance?” Naomasa asks. 

He doesn’t blame Toshinori, not completely, at least. After everything he lost because of All for One, this kind of reaction is pretty plausible. Still, All Might has been a hero for longer than a lot of the current heroes have even been alive. He should know better than anyone that many villains are as much victims as the people they hurt. And from what he saw, Eraserhead was the only one that S-15, Izuku, ever hurt. And even after almost dying, the hero is still willing to hold the kid like that. 

Who are they to condemn the kid for that? Naomasa won’t trust him just yet, but unlike Toshinori, he won’t be hostile to the kid.

“You don’t need to trust the kid just yet, Toshinori.” Naomasa says. “But give him a chance. It’s not fair to condemn a child for the crimes of their parents. If you can’t interact with him without being reminded of what All for One did, avoid him. But don’t antagonize him. If not for the boy, do it for yourself. You know you don’t want to be on Nedzu’s bad side.”

Saying that Naomasa keeps walking before Toshinori can reply. He just hopes that Toshinori will, for once, listen to what he said.

Chapter Text

Shouta arrives home with the bitten asleep in his arms, still wrapped in the blanket.

“It’s hard to believe he’s only six.” Zashi says as he opens the door for them.

Shouta nods as he toes out of his boots. Then he carries the kid to the guest bedroom and lays him down on the bed. The kid is blind, so the lights won’t bother him, but Shouta turns off the lights anyway. From what he gathered, the kid feels more comfortable when there are shadows close. He leaves an apple on the bedside table and walks away.

Sparing a last glance at Izuku, he closes the door and walks back to the living room. Zashi is in the kitchen, preparing a sandwich.

“So, how long are we taking care of him?” He asks.

“A few months at least.” Shouta says. “But…”

“You’d like it to be permanent.” Zashi completes it for him. “I know it wasn’t his fault. Well, logically, I know.” He sighs. “But Shouta, you almost died. The poison he used… There was no cure for it.”

“Yes, but the kid healed me, Zashi.” Shouta points. “I’m alive, Zashi. I’m okay.”

“I know…” Zashi replies. “It’s weird though.” He adds. “I know we’ve been talking about adopting for a while, but you aren’t one to get attached so quickly.”

“There’s something about him.” Shouta says. “Something different. He’s a good kid who was dealt a bad hand in life. You don’t have to trust him yet. But trust that I know what I’m doing.” 

“Okay. I trust you.” Zashi replies. “Now, let’s eat and then go to sleep.”

…

The next morning, Shouta wakes up to his husband screeching. That’s not very uncommon. This usually happens when Zashi sees a spider or something. But usually, this doesn’t happen so close to the bed.

“What is it, Zashi?” Shouta grumply asks. He hates to be woken up like this.

“Shou… Your back!” Zashi says, pointing at Shouta.

“My back?” Shouta asks, getting up. “What about my back?”

Zashi grabs his phone and quickly snaps a picture of Shouta’s back.

“The mark.” He says.

Shouta looks at the picture, and his eyes instantly widen.

“The soulmark.” He mutters.

His soulmark between his shoulder blades, a bat wearing a scarf and headphones, started filling up.

A soulmark will start filling the moment the two parts touch for the first time. After that, the mark will keep filling as the people get closer. If they choose not to pursue a relationship, though, they can break the mark safely. As long as it’s a decision both parties agree on, and the mark isn’t filled yet, it’s safe to break a soulmark.

But if the mark is near or completely filled, or one of the parts doesn’t want to break it, the consequences are horrible. At best, a pain worse than torture. At worst, complete insanity. But that’s beside the point. If Shouta’s soulmark started filling, it can only mean one thing.

“Zashi… This soulmark is the one we both have.” Shouta says.

“Yeah, our soulchild.” Zashi says. “We got it six years ago.”

Shouta’s eyes widen, and he jumps off the bed, throwing on a shirt.

“This can only mean one thing.” He says as he walks to Izuku’s room.

“Do you think it’s the Little Listener?” Zashi asks as he follows him.

When Shouta opens the door, his breath hitches. The bed is empty, and the blanket Izuku was wrapped in is folded on top of it. The apple core that Shouta left for Izuku is on the nightstand just in front of the lamp, but Izuku is nowhere to be found. Did he run away? But why would he do that? 

The door doesn’t seem to have been opened, and the window is locked, so there’s no way he could have gotten out, which means he must be somewhere here. But where?

“Shou, I found the Little Listener.” Zashi calls with the doors of the wardrobe open.

Inside the wardrobe is Izuku, with his knees hooked on the garment rods while the kid sleeps upside down. Shouta and Zashi look at each other and then at the bitten in the wardrobe.

“He’s roosting.” Shouta says. “Well, he’s a bat alright.”

“He definitely is.” Zashi agrees.

Izuku seems to notice them here as he starts to stir.

“Shouta?” He asks with a sleepy voice. “Did something happen?”

“No, Problem Bitten.” Shouta replies. “We just wanted to check something. Would you like to change out of this hospital gown?” He really should. He’s been wearing this for far too long.

“Sure.” Izuku replies and lets himself fall, righting himself before getting to the floor.

“Why were you sleeping there?” Shouta asks as Izuku grabs the clothes he offered him and starts changing. The kid obviously doesn’t feel any shyness or shame about changing in front of them.

“More comfortable.” Izuku replies as he puts on the sweatpants. Shouta probably should see about getting some adapted for tail mutations if the kid feels more comfortable with his stinger out.

“What exactly?” Shouta asks. “Is it the light? The sound? The space?”

“It’s easier to sleep upside down.” Izuku replies. “Darkness helps.” Probably because of his shadow quirk. “And I like tight spaces. They are... safer.” He practically whispers the last part.

Shouta’s mind is already coming up with ideas to make Izuku’s room more comfortable for him. 

“I see.” He says. 

“How do I put this?” Izuku asks, holding the shirt.

“There are holes for your wings.” Shouta explains. “Here, let me help you.”

As he helps Izuku put on the shirt, Shouta takes a good look at his back, and he sees four soulmarks. A bat wearing headphones and a scarf between his wings. This is the same mark Shouta and Zashi have, which confirms that Izuku is their Soulchild. But he has three others.

A striped coiled snake, right under the bat. A cat lying on a goat, under his left wing. And a white scorpion holding a book with its pincers under his right wing. The scorpion is also slightly filled, which means whoever this mark belongs to has already touched Izuku. But who could it be?

It’s impossible to say what kind of marks they are until they are filled. Shouta knows his mark is a parental bond mostly because of the age difference. Romantic and platonic bonds usually have no more than a 3-year age difference between the parties. Of course, exceptions do exist, but Shouta is sure that his bond with Izuku is not platonic and definitely not romantic. 

There are also sibling bonds; age gaps aren’t a problem with those, but again, Shouta doesn’t think of Izuku as a brother. He can only see the boy as his kid.

“Shouta?” Izuku calls in confusion.

“Sorry, I got lost in thought.” Shouta says, shaking his head. He carefully helps Izuku pass his wings through the holes in the shirt. “How is it?”

“Different.” Izuku replies.

Shouta remembers the kid was shirtless when he met him. That’s probably how he’s used to going most of the time.

“Bad different?” Shouta asks, and the kid shakes his head.

“Just different.” Izuku replies.

“Okay. Tell me if you’re uncomfortable.” Shouta says. “There are lots of shirts for winged people, we can find one comfortable for you.”

“Okay.” Izuku nods.

Shouta smiles and ruffles Izuku’s hair. The kid leans in his touch with a big smile. Neither of them seems to notice how awkward Zashi is feeling at the moment.

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .- -- .- --.. .. -. --.

Since his uncles returned from a raid a few weeks ago, they have not heard from him. The only reason Hitoshi isn’t worried is that they at least let him know they are all right. But that doesn’t change how boring the week has been.

That is why Hitoshi stands at their doorstep. They never said not to visit, so Hitoshi doesn’t feel bad about doing so. He knocks on the door and hears his uncle’s voice from inside.

“Did you forget your keys again?” It’s his uncle Shouta’s voice. “It’s open.”

Hitoshi is sure he’s not who his uncle is expecting, but he still opens the door and enters, leaving his shoes at the entrance. He takes a few steps when he hears a voice unfamiliar to him.

“You are not Hizashi.” He looks at the couch in the living room and sees what might be the cutest thing he ever saw in his life.

A kid, apparently a few years younger than himself, is on the couch, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito. The kid has curly green hair and big green eyes. Hitoshi also notices the wings wrapped around him under the blanket.

“I’m Hitoshi. Hizashi and Shouta are my uncles.” Hitoshi says.

“Hi, I’m Izuku.” The kid replies.

Hitoshi doesn’t usually get along with kids, but something about this boy is different.

Hitoshi sits down next to the kid, and they start talking. He doesn’t even notice when Shouta enters the room and gives them a fond look before returning to the kitchen. Half an hour later, the door opens again, and this time, Uncle Zashi enters.

“Hey, Shou. I’m back.” He says. “Sorry for the delay, the market was more crowded than I expected.” He enters the living room and finds Hitoshi playing Shiritori with Izuku. Izuku is holding an apple. “Toshi?”

“Hi Uncle Zashi.” Hitoshi waves at him. “Uncle Shouta is in the kitchen.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Hizashi goes to the kitchen and puts the groceries on the table. Shouta immediately gets the things to start dinner.

“I didn’t expect them to get along so easily.” Shouta says.

Just as Hizashi is about to reply, Hitoshi enters the kitchen and goes to the coffee maker, which is always filled in this household. He looks at Shouta and Hizashi as he fills a mug.

“I’ve only met Izuku for less than an hour, but if anything happened to him I would kill everyone in this room and them myself.” He says with such a serious expression that Hizashi is not sure if he’s joking or not.

“Well, I guess he is really cute.” Hizashi says, then leans closer to Hitoshi. “But be at least careful, Toshi. I know he doesn’t look like, but Izuku can be dangerous.”

Hitoshi blinks a few times and points to the living room.

“You want me to be wary of this?” In the living room, Izuku is trying to shove the entire apple in his mouth and whining because he can’t. “Sorry Uncle, I don’t think I can.”

Shouta looks at the scene and chuckles.

“Can you make sure he doesn’t choke?” He asks.

“Sure.” Hitoshi replies and walks back to the living room, grabbing a bunch of blackberries on the way.

As he sits again next to Izuku, Hitoshi feeds him the blackberries, and he can’t help but chuckle at how cute he looks with those chubby cheeks full of berries.

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .- -- .- --.. .. -. --.

The last weeks have been so nice for Izuku. He never felt so welcome before. He was used to waking up in pain every day, either from the training or the doctor’s experiments. But ever since he started living with Shouta, this never happened. Everything is almost perfect.

“Almost” being the keyword.

Izuku raises his head as he feels the heat signature of the second household member. Hizashi. Izuku knows the exact moment when he notices him in the living room because he can hear Hizashi’s heart speed up slightly. 

“Hey there, Little Listener.” He says, and Izuku knows he’s smiling. A forced smile. “How are you?”

“Hi, Hizashi.” Izuku replies with a smile and a wave. Still, right under Hizashi, his shadow is constantly talking.

“ I don’t trust you. You hurt Shouta. You are dangerous. ” His shadow keeps saying.

What hurts is how Hizashi keeps being polite to him. The friendly words. The forced smiles. It’s all lies.

But the shadows don’t lie. They always say what their owner feels deep inside. All his life, the shadows have been the thing Izuku could trust the most. Unlike humans, shadows are sincere.

Getting down from the couch, Izuku walks back to his room. The best he can do is stay away from Hizashi. He’s the person Shouta loves, and Izuku is intruding in their lives.

A few minutes later, Izuku is upside down in his favorite spot inside the wardrobe when he hears Hizashi and Shouta outside the room.

“This isn’t working.” Hizashi says in a frustrated tone. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“Zashi…” Shouta sighs. “Izuku is much more perceptive than you think.” He stops for a while. “Didn’t he prove himself yet? Can’t you give him a chance? A real chance?”

“I am giving him a chance, Shou!” Hizashi replies.

“No, you’re not!” Shouta says, raising his voice. “Zashi, you always act like you’re in pain when you talk to him. Even I can see how fake your smiles are. You look at him like he’s about to attack us at any moment.”

“Shou… He’s…”

“HE’S A KID, ZASHI!!” Shouta yells. “Stop acting like he’s some kind of villain in rehabilitation. He’s just a kid! Just give him a chance. Try to see what I see in him, for fucks sake!!” Izuku can hear Shouta panting.

“Shou…” Hizashi starts.

“I have to patrol…” Shouta says. “And we both need to cool down. We can talk when I’m back.” Izuku hears footsteps and then the front door opening. “I love you, Zashi.” Then the door closes.

“I love you too, Shou.” Zashi sighs, and Izuku hears a few more footsteps, then silence.

Izuku knows he wasn’t supposed to hear that. They probably forgot how acute his hearing is.

Izuku can feel his tears falling, but he can’t help. He feels so guilty that Hizashi and Shouta are fighting because of him. He’s just intruding on their life.

A breeze tells him that the window is open, and he barely thinks before jumping out and flying away. If he leaves, Shouta and Hizashi won’t fight anymore.

“It’s better this way.” He mutters as he flies, leaving behind nothing but his tears.

Chapter Text

Hizashi sits at the kitchen table, pressing his hands against his face. What Shouta said to him before he left is still on his mind. And worst of all, he is right. He’s not even really trying to get along with Izuku.

Every time he looks at the boy, the only thing he sees is that scene that night. The boy with his scorpion stinging into his husband’s stomach, and then his husband in the hospital writhing in pain. Maybe it is time to contact his therapist again.

What matters is that Shouta is right. Izuku is just a child. He is not to blame for the things he was forced to do.

“He’s my soulchild as well.” Hizashi says as he gets up. “It’s time I start putting in the effort.”

With his decision made, Hizashi grabs an apple and walks to Izuku’s door. It’s always easier to talk to the little listener when he’s eating something. He knocks on the door a few times but is met with silence.

“Little Listener? Can I come in?” He asks, knocking again. “I just want to talk.” Still silence.

Is he asleep? But Izuku is nocturnal. He rarely sleeps during the night. Well, he’ll take any excuse to nap with Shouta, but usually, he spends his nights training braille in his notebooks. Hizashi has no idea of what he writes in those.

Hizashi slowly opens the door and looks inside. If the kid is really asleep, he’ll come back later. The first place his eyes land is the bed, but as expected, Izuku isn’t there. He rarely is. So he walks to the wardrobe, which Shouta emptied for Izuku on the second day, and opens it. But Izuku isn’t roosted inside, either.

Okay, now Hizashi is getting worried, but before panicking, he checks the bathroom. Maybe he just didn’t hear Izuku leaving his room. The Bitten is very silent, after all. But no, he’s not in the bathroom either.

“Little Listener?” He calls, entering the bedroom again. “C’mon, where are you?”

From under the bed to inside the drawers, Hizashi searches every nook of the bedroom, then the rest of the house, but Izuku is nowhere. Just when he’s starting to panic, he feels a shiver, which makes him notice the open window. Izuku hates the cold. He always keeps the window closed. This can only mean one thing.

“Oh, god. Did he run away?” Hizashi mutters as he grabs his phone and dials Shouta’s number. His husband immediately answers him. “Shou! Izuku is gone!”

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .- -- .- --.. .. -. --.

Izuku is roosted in the branches of a big tree, trying to figure out what he does now. He has his wings wrapped around himself like a blanket, trying to shield himself from the cold wind. He’s wearing only his pajamas, which doesn’t help much against the icy fall wind.

Izuku doesn’t know where he’s going, but it’s like something is pointing him in that direction. Saying whatever he would find there is safe.

“ Go back. You don’t need to run away. ” His shadow tells him.

“I can’t go back.” Izuku says. “Hizashi doesn’t like me. He and Shouta are fighting and it’s all my fault.”

“ Shouta loves you. ” His shadow replies.

“And he loves Hizashi as well. He has loved him for much longer than I am even alive.” Izuku says. “He might be sad, but he’ll move on. If I’m not here, they can be happy again.”

“ Hizashi doesn’t hate you. ”

“Yes! He does!” Izuku says, raising his voice. “I can hear the strain in his voice everytime he talks to me. How he forces himself to smile. How he’s always looking at me like I’m going to hurt Shouta. He hates me!”

Before his shadow could reply, Izuku hears a familiar heartbeat - albeit faster - and footsteps.

“Izuku! C’mon Little Listener! Where are you?” Hizashi yells, just shy of activating his quirk. “Please Little Listener come back.”

Izuku pulls up into the branches. Thankfully, this tree still has some leaves he can use to hide.

“ If he hates you, why does he sound so worried? ” His shadow asks. “ Why is he out in the cold looking for you if he hates you? ”

“I don’t know.” Izuku says, and at this moment, Hizashi looks at the tree he’s hiding in. Izuku presses a hand against his mouth to muffle his breathing as Hizashi keeps walking. Once he’s past the tree, Izuku sighs in relief. “I need to leave before he sees me.” Hizashi is a hero, too. If he tries to, he can easily capture Izuku. So Izuku can’t be seen.

Izuku is about to take off when he hears a click and a voice filled with malice.

“Now I got you, Present Mic.” He recognizes the click as the sound of a gun.

“Hizashi! Be careful!” Izuku yells and flies towards Hizashi, just as he hears the gun going off, and jumps in front of the bullet. 

Izuku feels the bullet hit him in the chest, which sends him off course and makes him crash on the floor. Still, he sends the shadows to capture the shooter.

“What the hell? What are those things?” The shadows knock the gun out of the person’s grasp and wrap him like a constrictor snake so he can’t do anything.

“Izuku!” He hears footsteps, and suddenly, Hizashi is pulling him into his arms. “Oh, god, Little Listener. This looks bad.”

“It’s okay.” Izuku says with a smile. “It’ll heal in a few minutes.” 

Being shot hurts, but Izuku felt much worse before. He can already feel the wound starting to close, so he sends a shadow to pull the bullet out before it ends up stuck inside him.  

“Why did you do this, Little Listener?” Hizashi asks.

“Shouta loves you.” Izuku replies. “I don’t want him to be sad you got hurt.”

“He loves you too. And he’ll be sad you got hurt.” Hizashi says, grabbing Izuku’s hand and holding it tightly but not painfully. “Why did you run away?”

“You don’t like me. I’m intruding on your life. I don’t want you two to fight because of me. If I go, Shouta might be sad for a while. But he’ll forget me.” Izuku feels something wet falling on his face. Is Hizashi crying? Why is he crying? “Why are you crying?” Izuku asks, brushing the tears out of Hizashi’s eyes.

“He won’t forget you, Little Listener.” Hizashi says. “You’re not just some kid he wants to help. You’re much more.”

“Why not? He still has you.” Izuku asks, tilting his head in confusion.

“Because of this, little listener.” Hizashi rubs a spot on Izuku’s upper back, right between his wings. “This is your soulmark. You are his Soulchild, Little Listener. You are our Soulchild, and I’m sorry I never gave you a chance.”

Izuku looks down at Hizashi’s shadow, which is as talkative as always. But what it’s saying changed completely from just a few hours ago.

“ I’m sorry, Little Listener. I should have given you a chance. Please, come back. ”

“ Shadows don’t lie. ” His own shadow says. “ He doesn’t hate you. ”

Izuku turns back to Hizashi and gets back on his feet, wincing slightly as his bare feet touch the cold floor. He tilts his head and asks.

“What is a Soulchild?” He asks.

“You know how parents love their kids, right? Well, sometimes, a kid loses their parents, and the universe decides to give the kid a new set of parents.” Hizashi explains. “We call those Soulparents, and Soulchildren. And this mark we both carry on our back, is what makes sure we can find each other.”

“But I never had parents.” Izuku replies in confusion. “I’m not a real human, Hizashi. I don’t have a soul.”

“Yes, you are, Izuku.” Hizashi says. “You are a real human, and the four marks on your back are proof you do have a soul.” He pulls Izuku in a hug, not minding in the least that the blood on Izuku’s shirt will stain him. “I’m sorry for everything, Izuku. Could you give me a chance? I want to be your family, too.”

Izuku opens his wings and wraps them around Hizashi.

“Yes.” He says. “Please, I want us to be a family. I don’t want to be alone anymore.” He’s crying on Hizashi’s chest, but he can’t bring himself to care. He knows he and Shouta won’t punish him for crying.

Hizashi gets up from the cold floor and pulls Izuku up in his arms.

“We’ll be a family, Little Listener.” Hizashi says.

“ I promise you. ” His shadow confirms.

Izuku nods and rests his head on the crook of Hizashi’s neck. A few moments later, he drifts to sleep, feeling safe in Hizashi’s arms.

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .- -- .- --.. .. -. --.

Shouta is pacing back and forth in the living room as he waits for news. The only reason he’s not out searching as well is because there needs to be someone there in case Izuku comes back, as much as Shouta doesn’t think he will.

Shouta has a good idea of why Izuku ran away, and frankly, he wants to punch himself. How did he forget how good Izuku’s hearing is? Of course, the kid heard him and Zashi fighting earlier, and of course, the kid concluded it was his fault.

“Uncle Shouta!” He hears a knock on the door and opens it, finding Hitoshi there. He’s panting like he ran all the way here. “I came as soon as you called.”

“Thank you, Toshi.” Shouta replies. “I need you to stay here if Izuku comes back. I’ll look for him.”

“Okay. But why did he run away?” Hitoshi asks. “He never stops talking about how much he likes you.”

“Things aren’t really well between him and Zashi.” Shouta replies. “But I can’t say I have no blame either. I should have done something about it earlier. We can talk when he’s back with us and safe.”

“Okay.” Hitoshi nods, and Shouta is about to run outside to start his own search when his phone rings. It’s Hizashi.

“I found him.” Zashi says. “I’m bringing him back.”

“Okay, we talk when you get back. Be safe.” Shouta says and hangs the call, then he turns to Hitoshi, sighing in relief. “Zashi found him. They’re coming back.”

Then he goes to the kitchen and starts the coffee maker. Usually, Shouta doesn’t drink coffee during the night. He doesn’t need help to make his poor sleep schedule even worse. But after what just happened, he’s allowing himself to indulge in some not-so-healthy habits. And he’s sure Hitoshi will appreciate it as well.

Twenty minutes later, Hizashi opens the door and enters carrying Izuku. Shouta’s eyes immediately widen when he lays his eyes on them.

“Is this blood!?” He asks.

“Shh. Let him sleep.” Hizashi says when Izuku stirs. “I’ll explain in a second, just help me change his shirt and clean the blood.”

Shouta nods and gets up, with Hitoshi following him. They quickly take off his bloodied shirt and clean the blood in his chest with a cloth. The boy can take a bath later. 

As they clean his back, they notice the mark under his left wing. The cat, lying on top of a goat, started filling as well. The cat is a dark purple color, almost black, while the goat is green.

Shouta and Zashi look at each other. Besides them, there’s only one more person that Izuku has been in contact with since he started living with them.

“Toshi.” Shouta says, beckoning him closer and lifting gently Izuku’s left wing. “Is this familiar?”

“Oh, god. Izuku is my soulmate.” Hitoshi says with his eyes widening. “Please tell me it’s platonic or brotherly. I can only see him as a baby.”

“It probably is.” Hizashi says. “Especially considering Izuku is six.”

“He’s six!?” Hitoshi whisper-yells. “He looks 10! And why does our soulmark have a goat? Isn’t his quirk a bat?”

“Long story.” Shouta sighs. “We’ll tell you everything later. You should know. Especially if you two decide to pursue the bond.”

Hitoshi nods, and Shouta and Zashi go back to cleaning Izuku. Then, they wrap Izuku in a blanket and lay him in his bed. He’ll probably roost if he wakes up.

After settling Izuku back in his room, they all go back to the living room.

“So, what happened, and why was Izuku covered in blood?” Hitoshi asks.

“I found the Little Listener southeast of here, almost at UA. He jumped in front of a bullet for me.” Hizashi says, rubbing his face. “And I have confirmation of how strong his regeneration is, Shou. It only took him a few seconds to heal from a bullet in the chest.” Then he looks at Shouta. “You were right, I should have given him a chance. He wouldn’t have thought I hated him and didn’t want him here if I was more open to him. I’m sorry, Shou.”

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.” Shouta says.

“I know. I talked to the little listener and apologized to him.” Zashi says. “But I need to apologize to you too. You also suffered because of my stupidity.”

Shouta nods and opens his arms in invitation. Zashi is more than happy to accept the embrace. Shouta leans in and is about to kiss his husband when they hear a throat being cleaned and pull apart, blushing.

“You two always do this. Sometimes I wonder if I have a ghost quirk instead of brainwashing.” Hitoshi says, taking a sip of his coffee. “And Uncle Zashi. I can forgive you, since Izuku is fine and you two have already made up. Just know that I’ll be giving you the cold shoulder for at least two days. Starting…” He looks at his phone. “Now! I need to go home before Mom gets worried. Call me if something happens again. Bye Uncle Shouta.” Then he leaves, ignoring Zashi.

Thankfully, everything ended well. Shouta and Zashi go to sleep not long after Hitoshi leaves. They check on Izuku one last time to make sure the kid is okay and still here.

The next morning, Hizashi wakes up to the sound of a camera, and when he looks, Shouta is shoving a picture of Hizashi’s back on his face. His soulmark started filling as well. Hizashi smiles at the picture. Looks like he’s finally started to really bond with his kid.

His kid, huh? Hizashi and Shouta have thought about adopting for a long time already. But they never went ahead with the idea.

But Hizashi has to admit being a Dad is something he won’t mind. Especially with a son that adorable.

“Well, Shou. Let’s prepare breakfast for the little listener!” Hizashi says, grinning and jumping from the bed.

“Get back here, Zashi!” Shouta says, following him. “You know you can’t cook. I’m not giving Izuku burnt water.”

Chapter Text

UA is huge. The corridors are huge and extremely easy to get lost. Even with his echolocation, Izuku is sure he would get lost without Hizashi to guide him. He is here for a good reason. Apparently, Nedzu-San wants to test him to see where Izuku is in schooling terms.

Izuku knows that he will do well. As much as his physical training, the doctor has always emphasized his mental training as well. Izuku has had dozens of tutors over the years he has spent in the lab. Despite that, he can’t help but feel nervous.

“Don’t worry, Little Listener.” Hizashi says, rubbing Izuku’s shoulder. “Nedzu might seem a little intimidating, but he’s a great teacher.”

“ I just hope you two don’t start plotting world domination. ” Hizashi’s shadow adds.

Izuku nods, and they stop in front of a door. Hizashi raises his hand to knock, and the door opens before he can do it.

“Dramatic Rat.” Hizashi mutters.

“But, Hizashi.” Izuku says, following Hizashi into the office. “Nezzy is primarily a stoat, not a rat.”

“He is?” Hizashi asks. “Nezzy?”

“Oh, my. Izu-Kun.” Izuku almost jumps when he hears the voice. He hadn’t noticed Nedzu in the room. “You are the first to correctly guess my original species. Come in, we have a lot to talk about.”

Izuku nods and follows Hizashi, sitting at the chair Nedzu indicated and accepting the offered tea.

“So, you said you wanted to test Izuku?” Hizashi asks.

“Izu-kun clearly has a brilliant mind despite his young age.” Nedzu says. “And I’d like to help nurture it.”

“The doctor used to say that a good successor needed to be smart, not just strong.” Izuku says. “He always made sure that my studies were up to date.”

“I see.” Nedzu nods. “So, Izu-Kun. I have here a pack of tests on different subjects. I’d like you to try and answer them to the best of your abilities. With this, I can have a base of what we need to work on. All tests are in braille and you have until the end of the day to finish it. Any questions?”

Izuku thinks for a second, before nodding slowly.

“What is the punishment?” He asks softly.

“Punishment?” Nedzu and Hizaashi ask at the same time.

“Yeah.” Izuku nods. “For getting a question wrong.”

Hizashi and Nedzu look at each other for a moment. It is in those moments that Izuku wishes he could see expressions. He has no idea what the two are thinking. Did he say something wrong?

“Little Listener. There’s no punishment.” Hizashi says. “You won’t be punished by something as silly as getting an answer wrong in a test.”

“He’s right, Izu-Kun.” Nedzu replies. “And regardless of what happens, you’ll never be physically hurt by any of us.”

Izuku takes a deep breath and glances at their shadows. They confirm what he said.

“Ok.” Izuku nods.

“May I ask something before we start?” Nedzu asks, and Izuku nods. “I noticed you tend to glance at the shadows a lot. Is there a reason for that?”

“Shadows don’t lie.” Izuku replies.

“Shadows don’t lie?” Nedzu asks. “Does that mean shadows can talk?”

“They mostly repeat a few things.” Izuku replies. “I can ask them a question, and they’ll answer only the truth. When there’s no question to be answered, they just keep repeating things their owner believes.”

“So, the shadows are semi-sentient.” Nedzu says. “Fascinating.” Then he shakes his head. “Oh, we should start this as soon as possible. I already prepared a desk for you, and all your tests are printed in braille. If you need any help, you can call me.”

Izuku nods and goes to the desk indicated.

“Well, I have classes to attend.” Hizashi says. “But if anything happens, don’t hesitate to call me. I’ll be here in a flash, ya dig?”

Hizashi leaves the room, and Izuku goes straight to work.

For the next few hours, he starts answering question after question. Math, Chemistry, and Physics are the easiest ones for him. But he struggles a bit with History and Geography. It’s not his fault. He barely received any tutoring in History, and it’s not like he can read a map. So those two are a problem for him. Still, he does his best.

A few hours after he starts, Nedzu interrupts him for lunch. The chimera gives him a bowl of sliced apples, which are one of Izuku’s favorites!

Izuku smiles as he stuffs his cheeks with apples, and he can hear Nedzu chuckling.

“You always act so mature.” Nedzu says. “It’s good to see you acting your age.”

Izuku slows down on his chewing, raising his head a little.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to act.” Izuku says. “At the lab, I was punished for any mistake I made. The doctor didn’t like when I mumbled, or laughed, or ran - unless it was in training - or cried. I had to be always quiet and calm. If not, I’d be punished.”

“Could you tell me what kind of punishment you faced?” Nedzu asks softly.

A rough hand touched Izuku’s cheek. The moment all five fingers touched his skin, pain burst and he screamed.

“C’mon, player two. You can take more than that, can't you?” A cruel voice said. “Let’s try again? I wonder if you can feel those.”

The hand ghosted through Izuku’s chest, all the way to his neck, then to his back, until finally they went down to his right wing. Four fingers touching it.

“No. Please. Stop! I’ll be good. I promise.” Izuku pleaded in his weak voice. He tried to move, but his legs and hands were tied.

“Let’s see.” The last finger went down, touching his wing.

Izuku screamed.

Izuku could feel the tears gathering in his eyes at the memory. He quickly shakes his head. He can feel himself spiraling into a panic attack. But suddenly, he sees a fuzzy paw in front of his face.

“It’s okay, Pup.” Nedzu says. “You’re safe here. And we’ll never let them hurt you again.”

Izuku lowers his head and pushes into the paw. He can feel Nedzu running them through his curls. It’s very comforting. All his life, head pats were the only touches that never hurt.

“I can’t talk.” Izuku says. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“It’s okay, Pup.” Nedzu replies. “I’ll never force you to tell me anything you’re not ready to.”

Izuku doesn’t know why. But at this moment, he throws his arms around the Chimera, and pulls him into an embrace, wrapping his wings around them like a blanket. He never felt this comfortable with anyone except Shouta. He’s getting there with Hizashi, but not quite.

Maybe it’s because of their similar past. Izuku feels a bond with Nedzu that he doesn’t feel with anyone else. Nedzu feels like family but in a different way to Shouta and Hizashi. He can’t label it, but it feels safe. Izuku trusts his instincts, so he goes with them.

“Thank you. Nezzy-Nii.” Izuku says.

“No problem. Izu-Kun.” Nedzu pats his back.

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .- -- .- --.. .. -. --.

As Izuku finishes his tests, Nedzu starts grading. He feels very satisfied with the results as he grades. Izuku is very smart even for a 12 years old. But considering he’s only 6? The boy is a genius.

He completely aced the Math, Physics, and Chemistry portions of the exam. And he’s quite advanced in the other subjects as well. His analysis skills are great as well. He seems to struggle a little with History and Geography, though.

While he grades the test, Nedzu is already drafting a lesson plan in his mind. A brilliant mind like Izuku's needs a lot of stimulation, and Nedzu will be damned if he doesn't give the boy what he deserves.

Quietly raising his eyes, Nedzu watches the boy as he finishes the last portion of the test. The only trace of the panic attack he had earlier is the tear tracks on his cheeks. Frankly, Nedzu has never felt so protective of another person. But the moment Izuku called him Nezzy-Nii was the moment everything was decided. Nedzu will protect this boy at all costs.

And as for the people who hurt him before. Justice will be served. That is a promise. And Nedzu does not make empty promises.

“I'm done, Nezzy-Nii.” Izuku calls.

“Great job, Izu-Kun.” Nedzu replies as he picks up the last papers. “Now, how about I give you a tour through UA?”

Izuku smiles and quickly nods.

“Yes, please!” He says.

Nedzu jumps down from his chair and offers the Pup his paw. Unlike the first time at the hospital, this time Izuku doesn’t hesitate to take the offered paw. Nedzu smiles as they walk out of his office. There’s a lot he wants to show Izuku.

As they leave, Nedzu feels an itch on his back, on the right side of his shoulder blades. Weird, he’s sure he doesn’t have fleas. Maybe he should ask for a check-up with Chiyo later.

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .- -- .- --.. .. -. --.

Shouta is grading his class essays, and as usual, the red pen is running almost non-stop across the sheets. Honestly, just the grammatical errors he finds in these essays are enough to make him wonder what the hell is wrong with the school system in Japan. He puts the current sheet away and reaches for the next one when he notices Izuku looking at him. Shirtless and holding a towel. Didn't he say he was going to take a bath?

“Do you need something?” Shouta asks.

“I… Er…” Izuku's wings flutter softly as he looks down. “Can you help me? Wash my wings?”

Shouta blinks for a second. It’s the first time Izuku has asked for help with anything.

“Sure.” Shouta says as he gets up.

Izuku smiles at him and the two walk to the bathroom. Izuku quickly undresses and gets on the bathtub, spreading his wings for Shouta. This is such a display of trust from the kid that Shouta can’t help the smile on his face as he gently starts scrubbing the wings.

Shouta quickly notices a difference in Izuku’s soulmarks. Hitoshi’s mark is halfway filled. His and Zashi’s are practically filled. But to his surprise, there’s another mark almost filled as well. The scorpion holding a book, under his right wing is about 90% filled.

“Hey, Izuku.” Shouta calls. “Another one of your marks is filling. Do you know who it could belong to?” Izuku hasn’t interacted with many people, so there are not many possibilities. “Just think for a moment.”

Izuku hums and stays silent for a second, then turns his head to Shouta and smiles.

“Nezzy-Nii!” He says. “This is why he felt like family!”

“Nezzy?” Shouta thinks for a second, and then his eyes widen. “Wait? Nedzu?”

“Yeah!” Izuku replies. “He’s so nice. He helped me calm down, and then he took me on a tour through UA today. And he gave me apples.”

Ok. So Shouta’s boss is his kid’s soul brother. That’s a very interesting turn of events. Everyone always thought Nedzu didn’t have soulmarks, but probably his marks are hidden under his fur. Shouta doubts even the Rat knows it, though.

“Well, I guess I was wrong when I called him an evil, soulless overlord.” Shouta says, smiling. “He’s just an evil overlord.” 

Izuku giggles at him, which Shouta considers a victory. Then he grabs the shower head and starts rinsing the soap off Izuku’s wings. Once he’s finished, Izuku turns back to him and smiles.

“Thank you, Shouta.” Izuku smiles at him.

“Don’t mention it, Bitten.” Shouta replies, ruffling his hair. “If you need help drying later, just ask me.”

“Ok.” Izuku nods.

Shouta leaves the bathroom with a smile on his face. He feels that he just took a big step forward with Izuku.

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .- -- .- --.. .. -. --.

“But, Toshi. What if they don’t like it?” Izuku asks.

Hitoshi says and flicks Izuku on the forehead. They are both hanging out in Hitoshi’s room while they wait for Hizashi to take Izuku home.

“Zuzu. Stop being silly.” Hitoshi says. “The only reason they never broached the subject is that they want to do things at your pace. Let me tell you what will happen if you do it. Uncle Shouta will crush you in a hug. Uncle Zashi will do the same, or cry, or most likely do both. They love you.”

“I…” Izuku glances at Hitoshi’s shadow. He seems to do this a lot when he’s in doubt. “Ok. But I can’t call them both Dad…”

“Well, you could. But it would be confusing.” Hitoshi replies. “How about, Dad and Papa?”

“Dad and Papa?” Izuku asks as he runs a finger through his left wing. “You know? I never thought I would ever have a Dad. Let alone two.”

“You deserve a family. Everyone does.” Hitoshi replies, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. A few weeks ago, he would have flinched away from the touch. Hitoshi is very proud of his progress.

“Okay… I’ll do it.” Izuku nods. “What about you? What can I call you?”

“You already call me Toshi.” Hitoshi replies.

“Yeah.” Izuku blushes. “But there’s another thing I wanted to call you.”

“You can call me whatever you want, Zuzu.” Hitoshi replies.

Izuku smiles at him and takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. Then he opens his mouth.

“Izuku? Ready to go?” Hizashi calls from outside the room.

“Coming!” Izuku says as he quickly gets up from Hitoshi’s bed and bolts to the door.

Izuku stops at the door and turns back to Hitoshi with a big smile on his face and waves.

“Bye, Toshi-Nii!” He says, and bolts away, leaving a stunned Hitoshi behind.

Hitoshi feels a warm feeling in his chest at those words. He also feels a tingle on his left shoulder blade. The exact place he knows a very special mark lies.

“I guess that answers what kind of mark mine is.” Hitoshi mutters as he lies on his bed. “Never thought I would be a big brother.”

Chapter Text

Shouta has several years of experience as a hero under his belt. And in all that time, he’s seen all sorts of atrocities that would make anyone completely lose faith in humanity.

Underground heroes are constantly exposed to the worst kind of criminals imaginable. Murderers, rapists, human traffickers, organ traffickers, and more.

Still, the worst part of their job is always the same. Having to talk to the family of a victim he failed to save. No matter how many times he’s done it, it never gets easier.

Akatani Inko, the mother of Akatani Mikumo, is a short woman with long black hair and red eyes. She is unhealthily thin, in a way that says she constantly skips meals. The bags in her eyes speak of many sleepless nights, and the redness and puffiness in them indicate many tears shed. It’s more than obvious that she’s a mother who lost her son.

Still, it’s also clear that she’s a very kind woman. Her walls are marred with pictures of her and her son. The kid who has an uncanny resemblance to Izuku. They have the same smile and the same freckled face. The only difference is that Izuku has green eyes and hair, while Mikumo had black hair and red eyes like his Mom.

Once more, Shouta is hit by the truth that Izuku is a clone. Created by a twisted doctor at the cost of the life of a child. The thought makes Shouta’s blood boil in anger. Not at Izuku, that sweet boy has absolutely no fault. But at the doctor who tried to play god.

As Shouta stands before Inko, he can’t help but feel the weight of the situation on his shoulders. He knows that his next words may inflict even more pain upon this already devastated woman, and that realization makes his heartache. Inko has lost everything she had - her beloved son, Mikumo. And now, Shouta must reveal the truth about Izuku, who shares an uncanny connection with Mikumo as his clone.

As much as it pains him to add to her suffering, Shouta understands that Inko deserves to know the truth. She’s the closest thing to a blood relative that Izuku has, and she deserves to be aware of the connection they share. If only he knew how to address the situation…

“I have to thank you, Eraserhead-San.” Inko is the one who breaks the silence after they stay silent for several minutes in her living room. “Even if my son couldn’t be saved. I’m glad to know that the monster who hurt him was caught and is facing justice.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Akatani-San.” Shouta says respectfully.

“A parent shouldn’t have to bury their own child.” Inko says with tears glistening in her eyes. “Mikumo suffered so much. All because of something out of his control. It’s so unfair… Knowing that the monster who hurt him is facing justice brings little comfort. But it’s something nonetheless.” She shakes her head and turns to Shouta. “But I don’t think you came here just to see me. What do you need, Eraserhead-San?”

Shouta sighs, trying to figure out what he should say. Tact was never one of his qualities, but he needs to do this.

“Akatani-San. How much do you know about what happened to your son?” Shouta asks her.

“He was kidnapped by some twisted doctor.” Inko replies, frowning. “He suffered… experiments.” The word nearly chokes her. “He died two years ago. It might sound horrible of me to say this. But I’m glad he died. I can’t imagine how much he suffered all this time. And he could have suffered for two more years.”

“Akatani-San.” Shouta reaches into his pocket and pulls out a few pictures of Izuku. “Look at this.”

Inko takes the picture and gasps, immediately covering her mouth. 

“This boy... He looks just like my Mikumo…” Her voice trembles.

“The doctor’s experiments…” Shouta clenches his teeth. “He created clones… 15 clones. Only one survived. This is Izuku. He’s a clone of your son.”

“Why are you telling me this, Eraserhead-San.” Inko asks, and it’s clear she’s holding back tears.

“Izuku told us a bit of what he went through.” Shouta explains. “He’s such a sweet child, and he suffered so much…”

“He’s a victim, just like Mikumo was.” Inko interrupts, understanding the implication.

“And one way or the other… He has Mikumo’s blood.” Shouta says. “And, by extension, yours.”

Inko takes a moment to absorb the revelation, tears streaming down her face. The weight of the truth is immense, but Shouta knows that keeping this from her would have been unjust. He offers her a supportive presence, ready to answer any questions she may have as they navigate this difficult revelation together.

“Does he know… About me?” Inko asks.

“He doesn’t.” Shouta shakes his head. “I think he knows Mikumo had a family. But he blames himself for his death and the 14 other clones. He doesn’t even think he’s really human. I didn’t want to tell him anything before talking to you.”

“He has Mikumo’s blood.” Inko repeats. “But he’s not Mikumo. Mikumo is gone, and he’ll never come back.”

Shouta nods empathetically, understanding the pain and confusion Inko must be feeling. He understands her pain much more than most would think.

“You’re right. Izuku is not Mikumo. But if you want, you could still be part of his life.” Shouta replies.

Inko stays silent for several seconds.

“I don’t blame him.” She finally says, her voice soft but resolute. “It’s not his fault. And he looks like a very sweet child.”

“He is.” Shouta affirms with a nod.

“I wish I could be here for him. But I can’t, Eraserhead-San.” Inko replies, her eyes reflecting a mix of sorrow and understanding. “I know he’s not Mikumo, but just looking at his face is an eternal reminder that Mikumo is gone. I know myself. I wouldn’t be able to look at him without seeing my son. Izuku doesn’t deserve that. He deserves a family that will be there for him. Not someone who will always remind him of the person he isn’t.”

Shouta nods at her decision. He can’t help but admire how strong this woman is.

“I understand, Akatani-San.” Shouta nods at her. “Would you like to say anything to him?”

“No. I think it’s better if he continues not knowing about me.” Inko replies. “He won’t miss someone he never met. I want him to be happy. Even if he’s not Mikumo, he’s all that’s left from him.”

“Understood.” Shouta says with a nod. “It was nice to meet you, Akatani-San. I hope you can find the closure you deserve.”

“Thank you for telling me the truth, Eraserhead-San.” Inko replies. “It’s nice to know a small part of my son still lives. I hope he can find the happiness he deserves as well. And I hope the monster who caused him and Mikumo so much pain will rot for what he did.”

“He will.” Shouta affirms. “Nedzu made sure of that.”

“Good.” Inko nods, and Shouta can see a fire in her eyes. She seems like a different person from a few minutes ago when Shouta started the talk.

As Shouta walks away from Inko’s house, he can’t help but feel a tinge of disappointment. He had hoped that Inko would choose to connect with Izuku, but he understands and respects her decision to protect him from potential pain. While he empathizes with her feelings, there’s a part of him that wished for a different outcome.

Nevertheless, Shouta will accept and honor Inko’s choice. He won’t push her or Izuku into a situation that might cause more harm than good. If Inko believes it’s best for Izuku not to know about her, then he will respect that.

Besides, blood ties are not the only family ties in existence. Shouta may not share blood with Izuku, but that doesn’t diminish their connection. He’s Izuku’s soul parent, and he’ll be here for his kid in every way he can.

…

Shouta steps into the house, and as he takes off his shoes, he hears a familiar tune playing softly in the background. A song about cherry pie, and he follows the sound to the kitchen, where a delightful aroma fills the air. There, he finds Zashi busy at work, baking a cherry pie.

“Hey.” Shouta greets with a smile, leaning against the kitchen doorway.

Zashi looks up from his baking, returning the smile. “Hey, welcome home.” He replies warmly. “I’m making a cherry pie.”

Shouta’s eyes wander to the bowl of cherries on the counter, and to his amusement, he spots Izuku attempting to stealthily crawl towards it. The young boy moves with an impressive attempt at stealth, but his big wings give away his position. 

Shouta and Zashi exchange amused glances, deciding to play along and pretend not to notice Izuku’s antics. Zashi stifles a laugh as he continues working on the pie while Shouta crosses his arms, pretending to be nonchalant. The bowl is filled with more cherries than necessary for the pie, hinting that Zashi knew the boy would try that.

Izuku, thinking he’s being sneaky, reaches the bowl, grabs two cherries, and quickly crawls away, trying his best to suppress his giggles. His attempts at stealth are both adorable and endearing, bringing a warm feeling to Shouta’s heart. He really needed that after the hard talk he had with Inko.

“How was your day?” Shouta asks his husband, taking a step ahead and kissing his cheek.

Since Shouta had to go talk to Inko, he had Zashi subbing for him today. This year, his husband didn’t have a homeroom class, so he could do it without problems.

“Great!” Hizashi replies with a smile. “I didn’t have to put anyone in detention today. Maybe because I had a lovely little helper who kept an eye on the class for me.” He says, looking at the living room where Izuku was engrossed playing with an audio puzzle Nedzu got him. “No one wanted to risk upsetting the Little Listener.” He leans closer to whisper like he’s sharing some top secret. “I even caught Amajiki sneaking him a few grapes when he thought I wasn’t looking.”

Shouta chuckles at the image of his anxious student, Amajiki, secretly sharing grapes with Izuku in the middle of class.

“Didn’t think the kid had it in him.” He remarks, amused.

“He’s a charmer, that one.” Zashi says, affectionately watching Izuku from a distance. “There’s just something about him. He’s very charismatic.”

“He’ll be a great leader one day.” Shouta replies. “Anyway, why are you baking a pie?”

“Oh, I was talking to Izuku earlier about what he wanted to eat today.” Hizashi says. “When I suggested cherry pie, he told me he had never had it before. I couldn’t let such a thing pass.”

As Zashi’s words sink in, Shouta is reminded once again of Izuku’s past. The innocent statement about never having tried cherry pie serves as a poignant reminder of the many simple joys that were denied to him during his time with that sinister doctor.

“I wish I could get five minutes alone with that damn doctor.” Shouta grumbles, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and longing for justice.

Noticing his slip of the tongue, Shouta turns to Izuku, hoping the boy didn’t hear him. Thankfully, the boy is still engrossed with his puzzle, so he doesn’t notice Shouta mentioning the doctor. He sighs in relief and shakes his head.

“The pie will be ready in ten minutes.” Zashi says. “Why don’t you go play with Izuku?”

Shouta nods, appreciating the diversion, and takes a bunch of cherries from the bowl before making his way to the living room. He sits down on the couch next to Izuku and holds a cherry above his head. With a burst of excitement, Izuku jumps up and grabs the sweet fruit in his mouth.

“What are you playing?” Shouta asks with a chuckle.

“An audio puzzle.” Izuku replies. “Each side plays a different sound. I have to press it in the same order they were played.”

“Sounds like fun.” Shouta comments, smiling at Izuku’s joy. “Do you need any help?”

“I got this!” Izuku shakes his head, determination shining in his eyes.

Shouta watches with pride as Izuku skillfully interacts with the puzzle, marveling at the boy’s ability to find joy in the simplest of things. Ten minutes quickly pass, with Shouta watching Izuku play.

“Hey, my favorite Listeners!” Zashi calls. “The pie is ready!”

Izuku grins, setting aside the puzzle, and follows Shouta to the kitchen. The tantalizing aroma of the cherry pie fills the air, and Shouta can’t help but feel a surge of happiness as they gather around the table. Zashi places the freshly baked cherry pie in the center, and they all take a seat.

Shouta watches as Zashi pulls out his phone to record Izuku’s reaction to having cherry pie for the first time. Shouta is also very interested in the boy’s reaction.

Zashi watches with a hitched breath as Izuku cuts a piece of pie and brings it to his mouth. As Izuku takes a bite, his eyes light up with wonder, and he lets out a soft hum of surprise. The delight on his face is evident.

“This is amazing!” His voice is filled with genuine excitement and pleasure, and it warms both Shouta and Zashi’s hearts.

Zashi can hardly contain his happiness, and Shouta is afraid he’ll have to cancel his quirk at any second now. He glances at Shouta, and they share a knowing smile, their hearts swelling with happiness for their little boy.

“I’m glad you like it.” Zashi replies, his voice tinged with affection.

Izuku nods at him with a grin.

“Thank you, Papa.” Izuku says gratefully, and it’s the first time he calls Zashi “Papa” since he started living with them.

Shouta and Zashi freeze, their hearts skipping a beat. Emotions swirl inside them—happiness, surprise, and overwhelming love. It’s a profound moment that they have been waiting for since the day Izuku came into their lives. Then, to Shouta’s astonishment, Izuku turns to him.

“Thank you, Dad.” Time seems to stand still as Shouta processes those words. He can hardly believe what he just heard. 

Just like with Zashi, it’s the first time Izuku calls him “Dad,” and it’s more than he ever hoped for. 

Before Shouta can even begin to process the words Izuku just said, Zashi is already dragging him into a family hug. Shouta wraps his arm around both his husband and his son, and he can feel Izuku’s wings wrapping them both. They keep like this for several seconds, no one wanting to move away from the hug.

As they remain locked in the tight embrace, Shouta feels a tingling sensation on his back, a sensation he knows all too well. He doesn’t need to check to confirm what has happened – he knows that his soulmark is now fully filled.

Parental soulbonds are indeed a special phenomenon, and as Shouta experiences this overwhelming connection, he realizes that it goes beyond a mere emotional bond. With the soulbond completed, he becomes acutely tuned to Izuku’s every emotion, like an empath, feeling his son’s joy, fear, and sadness on a deeper level.

Shouta never felt so happy.

Chapter Text

There are times when Shouta wonders if he should have taken the villain route like everyone always said he would. Being a villain seems like it comes with fewer headaches. No stupid rules to hold you back – hurting or even killing people wouldn’t be off-limits.

This kind of thought usually creeps up on him when he’s annoyed, like now. It’s usually triggered by petty stuff, like a messed-up order from a waitress or someone obliviously puffing smoke in his face. But it’s not just about minor irritations; it’s about bigger things, too, like when some shady organization messes with his family.

But this time, it’s not just irritation he’s feeling. No. Shouta is completely pissed off as he reads the paper Nedzu handed him. He reads it over and over as if the words might magically change to something less terrifying. They don’t. The HPSC is gunning for his kid.

“How the hell…?” Shouta manages to say, his disbelief evident.

“All Might.” Nedzu answers with a heavy sigh. “Instead of listening to us, he decided to go directly to the HPSC with his concerns about Izuku’s heritage.”

Shouta clenches his fists, struggling to contain the surge of anger bubbling up. Never in his life had he felt so compelled to just let everything go and become a villain. What he wouldn’t do for the chance to strangle the number one hero with his scarf.

“I won’t let them lay a finger on Izuku.” Shouta growls. “He’s finally starting to break free from his past conditioning. I won’t let these bastards turn him into some mindless weapon. He’s just a damn kid!”

“Then we are on the same page.” Nedzu declares as he leans forward. “Not that I expected anything different from you. Especially when it comes to your Soul Child.”

Shouta offers a tight nod, his full attention fixed on the principal. 

“So, what’s the plan?” He asks.

Nedzu reaches under his desk, producing a second folder, which he slides across to Shouta. 

“You’ll learn that the HPSC is quite flexible when they think they’ve got the upper hand.” Nedzu remarks. “I managed to convince them to allow Izuku to participate in a little ‘project’.”

Shouta opens the folder, revealing a detailed training plan and a contract awaiting his signature. His brow furrows as he scans the contents. The training regimen outlined seems akin to what individuals would undergo during vigilante rehabilitation – something Shouta is all too familiar with.

Diving into the contract, he reads it with keen attention, his expression growing more serious as he examines the clauses.

“So, essentially, they’re giving us two years to prepare Izuku sufficiently for him to pass the provisional license exam.” Shouta summarizes the contract’s terms. “If he manages to secure his provisional license by then, they’ll let him stay with us. But if he fails, they’ll take and put him in the same training program that Hawks underwent.”

“That’s the gist of it.” Nedzu nods in affirmation.

“Izuku is only six years old.” Shouta’s frown deepens as he points out. “Don’t they know that?”

“Quite the opposite, actually. They’re banking on Izuku’s tender age to increase the odds of him failing.” Nedzu clarifies, shaking his head. “They’re painting it as an opportunity, but their intention is to seize Izuku either way.”

“So, they’re playing a manipulative game.” Shouta’s lips press into a tight line.

“Exactly.” Nedzu confirms, his expression shifting into a feral grin. “How about we turn the tables on them?”

“We’ll prove them wrong.” Shouta agrees, a determined gleam in his eyes. “We’ll get Izuku ready for the provisional exam, and he’ll become the hero he’s always aspired to be.”

Nedzu nods, his fingers dancing over the keyboard of his computer. 

“You’re going to need all the time you can get for this.” He explains. “And would you look at this? It seems you’ve had to expel most of your homeroom class this year. The remaining few can easily be transferred to Vlad’s class.” He looks back at Shouta. “Essentially, you’re now free from your homeroom duties. This should grant you ample time to concentrate on Izuku’s training.”

“Well, this certainly makes things easier.” Shouta nods in appreciation. He wouldn’t usually trust Vlad with his problem children, but Izuku is his top priority here.

“Consider it a strategic move.” Nedzu’s grin widens. “I’ll be taking care of notifying the necessary parties. You can focus on your training plan.”

As Shouta stands, he can already feel the gears of his mind churning. The blueprint for their next steps is taking shape. Izuku’s assessment needs to be the starting point – determining his current skill set and identifying areas for improvement. Shouta’s traditional quirk assessment test is the logical beginning.

Combat training might not be the primary focus; Izuku’s raw ability is evident. However, honing skills like rescue and other non-combat facets will be essential. He should discuss with Thirteen about booking the USJ for that.

-- . .- -. .-- .... .. .-.. .

Izuku is silent as he absorbs his Dad’s words. What he said makes perfect sense, and Izuku can understand his Dad’s stance. The mere thought of being owned by someone again twists something in his stomach. Despite his borderline worship of heroes, Izuku has never been one to view the world through rose-tinted lenses.

The doctor always made sure to expose Izuku to the worst facets of humanity. Maybe he wanted to destroy Izuku’s faith in society. Or maybe it was just another way to make Izuku suffer. Regardless of the reason, one of the doctor’s favorite pastimes was to show Izuku just how corrupt the heroes he liked so much could be. So Izuku has always been aware of just how bad the HPSC really is.

Izuku is more than aware of his Dad’s fast heartbeat, a testament to all his worry and anger. Usually, he would be afraid of such a clear display of anger, but he just knew that it wasn’t him that his Dad was angry with. He understands just how serious the situation is.

Yet, despite the situation, Izuku feels oddly calm and accepting. He trusts his Dad to have his best interests in mind, and he knows this is necessary. Besides, even if it’s not how he expected it to go, this still is his chance to fulfill the dream he once thought he’d have to abandon.

With a determined nod, Izuku lifts his head at his Dad.

“What’s the plan?” He asks, his voice steady.

-- . .- -. .-- .... .. .-.. .

Shouta and Izuku stand on UA’s PE field, surrounded by equipment. Shouta carefully inspects the gear while Izuku, dressed in a PE uniform, begins his stretches. With a satisfied nod, Shouta shifts his attention to Izuku, who has his wings unfurled and flapping softly.

Izuku quickly senses Shouta’s presence and directs his full focus towards him. 

“I’m ready.” Izuku says, his face is devoid of any hint of a smile, exuding a serious demeanor. “What’s the plan?”

Shouta can appreciate someone taking his test so seriously, but something about how expressionless Izuku is at the moment just feels wrong. Taking a moment to compose himself, Shouta takes a deep breath before launching into his explanation. 

“You’re about to undergo a Quirk Assessment test.” Shouta explains. “Our goal is to evaluate your current physical capabilities and how well you can control your quirk.” He gestures towards the expansive field. “There will be eight tests. 50-Meter Dash, Grip Strength, Standing Long Jump, Repeated Side Steps, Ball Throw, Endurance Run, Seated Toe Touch, and Sit-ups. Your objective is to utilize your quirks to achieve the highest scores possible in each trial. Other than keeping to the set area in each test, anything goes.”

Usually, Shouta’s Quirk Assessment Test would include a logical ruse to make sure his students take it seriously. But he can see that something like this wouldn’t be necessary for Izuku. Besides, he learned on the first days of taking care of the Problem Bitten that it’s better to be straight to the point with him.

As Izuku readies himself for the first test, the 50-meter dash, Shouta observes him, keenly attuned to every detail. He can’t help but notice the uncanny sense of calm that envelops him. Ever since his Soulmark with Izuku was filled, Shouta acquired an acute sensitivity to every emotion coursing through the boy. However, at this moment, he can’t feel anything. It’s like there’s a void where Izuku’s emotions should be.

 A pang of concern stirs within Shouta as he wonders if there’s something wrong with his Soulmark, but a glance at Izuku dispels that notion. The boy is behind the starting line, wings extended as he takes a starting stance, his gaze fixed blankly on the track. Shouta instantly realizes that this apparent emotional void is likely a manifestation of Izuku’s conditioning.

He remembers what Nedzu told him about his conversation with Izuku sometime ago. And the recording he showed him.

“ At the lab, I was punished for any mistake I made. ” Izuku had told the rat. “ The doctor didn’t like when I mumbled, or laughed, or ran - unless it was in training - or cried. I had to be always quiet and calm. If not, I’d be punished. ”

A surge of anger courses through Shouta at the thought of everything Izuku went through. The rage simmers beneath the surface, but before he can voice anything, the sharp blast of a whistle pierces the air. Without hesitation, Izuku propels forward like a lightning bolt. His wings beat with rapid intensity, propelling him with astonishing speed as he hurtles toward the finish line.

A second beep sounds from the bot, marking the end of the sprint. Shouta’s attention darts to the clock, his surprise palpable as he reads the displayed time – 1.53 seconds. It’s an impressive feat. Far surpassing the great majority of Shouta’s students. In fact, the only person Shouta ever saw getting a greater score was a kid with a teleportation quirk he taught a few years ago.

As Shouta glances at Izuku, he realizes the boy still has his inexpressive face, looking at Shouta with blank eyes. He almost seems to be dissociating, but Shouta can still see a hint of awareness in his eyes. It makes Shouta worried, but he swallows it for now, making a mental note to address it with Hound Dog later.

They move to the next test. Izuku calls a shadow to wrap around his arm, forming a talon-like hand, and uses it to squeeze the grip measuring device. Once more, Shouta is impressed to see Izuku’s score. He gets 371.0 kg.

Shouta almost skips the Standing Long Jump test. What is even the point of this test when Izuku can fly? He still does it in the end, and as expected, Izuku clears the sandbox pretty easily. Shouta asks him to do it again without flying, and to his surprise, Izuku also clears the sandbox without the use of wings.

Izuku does pretty well in the Repeated Side-Steps, though his score is nothing out of this world since there’s not really a way for him to use his quirks to help here.

Next comes the Ball Throw, and Shouta is very interested in what Izuku will do here. 

Granting Izuku the signal, Shouta witnesses the boy grab the ball and rapidly fly upwards. Thankfully, Shouta had the foresight to prepare for this kind of scenario and brought a pair of binoculars with him. He observes Izuku positioning himself in the air, his wings flapping to keep him in the air. Shadows gather on his hand, melding into a makeshift slingshot that propels the ball with remarkable force. Combined with his elevated position, the ball soars across the field.

Once Izuku descends back to the ground, the measurement device beeps, revealing a staggering distance of 843 meters. Shouta is left deeply impressed by Izuku’s strategic thinking and resourceful application of his quirks. His first years very rarely show this type of creativity and skill in these tests, and they are over twice Izuku’s age.

On the Endurance Run, Izuku uses his wings to fly at a constant speed across the track. Shouta observes as he keeps a speed of over 50 mph for over half an hour without any sign of slowing down. And he’s sure Izuku can keep that up for much longer, but if Shouta lets this go on, they might stay here the whole day, so he simply marks an infinity on the score, like he did in the Standing Long Jump, and they move on.

The Seated Toe Touch has Shouta cringing at how much Izuku is capable of bending down. Looks like Izuku’s snake quirk gives him a bit more than just heat detection, his flexibility is also off the charts.

For the Sit Ups, Izuku once more shows his flexibility and endurance, easily scoring much more than most of his first years would. By the end of it, Izuku is barely sweating.

As the tests finish, Shouta quickly calculates the scores, comparing them to his two previous classes, and he’s very impressed to see that Izuku would easily land in first place against them. He can’t help but feel proud of his son for that.

Once he looks down from his tablet, he finds Izuku staring at him with that blank expression, which sends another pang of worry across his heart. Still, he tries to push it down and clears his throat.

“You did great, Izuku.” Shouta says warmly. “Now, go cool down, and take a shower.”

The Problem Bitten nods blankly before turning around and starting his cool-down exercises. Shouta tries not to stare, but he can’t avoid it. Seeing Izuku like this just feels wrong. He can only hope he can bring him back to normal.

No! He can’t think like that. He will get Izuku back to normal.

-- . .- -. .-- .... .. .-.. .

Awareness gnaws at Izuku as he senses the concern radiating from his parents. Several hours have passed since they returned home, and Izuku is still in what he often labels his “focused” state. 

He knows his Dad and Papa are worried about how borderline dissociative he is at the moment, but he can’t help it. That’s how he has always been expected to act in training. He’s used to being silent, obeying without question, and enduring without protest. It’s the way he’s been conditioned to perform, etching the habits deeply into his psyche.

But this time, there’s a stark divergence. His Dad’s training is nothing like the doctor’s at all. Shouta respects his limits, doesn’t raise his voice, and creates an environment far removed from the torment of his past. Even if Izuku didn’t say a single word during training, he knows that his Dad wouldn’t reprimand him for speaking.

He’s sitting on the couch, some musical cartoon playing in the background, with both Dad and Papa sitting beside him, running their hands through his hair. It’s clear that they aren’t really paying attention to the movie. The realization that he’s causing them concern tugs at his heart, weaving a complex tapestry of emotions – gratitude for his current circumstances, frustration at his conditioned responses, and determination to reshape his perception of training.

Izuku really wants to show his Dad and Papa just how grateful he is. That he’s trying to adapt and leave his past behind. But the words are stuck in his throat. It’s so frustrating. It’s like with each step he takes forward, he takes two steps backward.

As he’s trapped in his mind, the song playing catches his attention, and Izuku lifts his head slightly, paying more attention to the lyrics.

Here comes a thought that might alarm me

What someone said and how it harmed me

Something I did, that failed to be charming

Things that I said are suddenly swarming

The words resonate, striking chords deep within his soul. They feel like a reflection of his own turmoil—past regrets, self-doubt, and the fear of losing what he has now. It’s as if the song has encapsulated his inner struggles in a few poignant lines.

And, oh, I’m losing sight, I’m losing touch

All these little things seem to matter so much

That they confuse me

That I might lose me

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Izuku, his Dad and Papa are attuned to his change in demeanor. They share a glance at each other before going back to running their fingers through Izuku’s hair soothingly. This kind of touch has always been the only one that never hurt him. Izuku is aware that the doctor did this as a form of gaslighting Izuku into thinking he has some affection for him. But it doesn’t change the fact that he always felt comforted by that.

Take a moment, remind yourself

To take a moment and find yourself

Take a moment and ask yourself

If this is how we fall apart

The song’s lyrics continue, reverberating through the air and into Izuku’s heart. The additional voice of his Papa intertwines with the melody, creating a comforting harmony that resonates deeply within him.

But it’s not, but it’s not, but it’s not, but it’s not, but it’s not

It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay

I’ve got nothing, got nothing, got nothing, got nothing to fear

I’m here, I’m here, I’m here

The words are more than just lyrics of a song. They are a reassurance and a promise that resonates deeply within Izuku’s heart. 

And it was just a thought, just a thought, just a thought, just a thought, just a thought

It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay

We can watch, we can watch, we can watch, we can watch them go by

From here, from here, from here

Tears gather on Izuku’s eyes and run through his cheeks, mingling with his smile as he listens to his Papa’s singing. The dichotomy of emotions within him is overwhelming yet somehow cathartic. His Papa’s voice serves as a lifeline, guiding him away from the dark abyss of his conditioned thoughts.

Take a moment to think of just

Flexibility, love, and trust

Take a moment to think of just

Flexibility, love, and trust

With the song’s conclusion, Izuku slowly raises his head, his unseeing eyes seeking out his Papa and then his Dad and conveying a soft, grateful smile. His wings unfold gently, and his parents give him the space to move them, granting him the freedom to wrap them around his Dad and Papa, pulling them into a loving embrace.

Amid the quietness, his Dad’s gentle voice resonates.

“We love you, Izuku.” He murmurs softly.

“And we’ll always love you.” His Papa adds. “Don’t rush. You have all the time in the world to get better.”

Izuku’s heart swells with warmth as his parents’ words and presence envelop him. In this moment, the weight of his past and his worries seem to lighten, replaced by the soothing embrace of love and understanding.

“I love you too.” He whispers. His first words in several hours. “Both of you.”

Chapter Text

For the past few weeks, Hitoshi has made a habit of visiting his Uncles' house, often gravitating towards spending time in Izuku's room. While some might find hanging out with a younger brother tiresome, for Hitoshi, it's quite the opposite—a welcome escape from solitude.

The absence of other friends to engage with likely plays a role, but Hitoshi pays little mind to that. Despite their differing ages and personalities, he finds their companionship harmonious. Izuku's boundless optimism and energy complement Hitoshi's more reserved demeanor, forming a balanced dynamic.

With Izuku, there's never any pressure to speak; the little bitten is more than able to talk for both of them.

“So, if you do that, you might be able to project your quirk even farther!” Case in point. 

For the past 15 minutes, Izuku has been enthusiastically sharing an idea to enhance Hitoshi's quirk's range, illustrating their effortless rapport. It still takes Hitoshi off guard just how much Izuku likes his quirk. It’s a reaction so different from what he’s used to getting from most people.

Though, now that Hitoshi thinks about it, Izuku knows a lot about Hitoshi’s quirk, but he never seems to talk much about his own. As Izuku pauses to catch his breath after enthusiastically explaining his idea, Hitoshi seizes the opportunity to ask his own question.

“Hey, Zuzu.” Hitoshi begins, his curiosity piqued. “You never talk much about your quirk. How does it work? I mean, I get the obvious bat mutation.” He gestures towards Izuku's wings. “But I'm curious about where the shadow manipulation comes from.”

The sudden freeze in Izuku's demeanor as Hitoshi poses the question sends a pang of concern through Hitoshi. Instantly regretting his inquiry, he wishes he could take it back, realizing it may have touched upon a sensitive topic for Izuku.

Hitoshi is no stranger to worry. With his Moms both working demanding jobs - one as a police officer and the other as an exotic veterinarian - and his uncles being pro-heroes, the concern for their safety is a constant presence in his mind.

Every time they leave to do their jobs, Hitoshi worries something might go wrong and they won’t make it back home. It happened several times. Mom has been shot several times over her career. A tiger almost bit Ma’s arm off one time. 

The hospital visits to see his uncles, battered and bruised from their heroic endeavors, have become a familiar routine, though one he'd rather forget. Each time they leave, Hitoshi can't help but wonder if they'll return.

Hospital visits to check on his battered and bruised uncles have become a grim routine, a reminder of the dangers they face in their line of duty. Yet, despite the constant worry, Hitoshi has learned to cope. Over time, he's found a way to compartmentalize his fears, pushing them to the back of his mind to carry on with his daily life.

Though the fear of losing them still lingers, Hitoshi has become adept at managing his anxiety, refusing to let it consume him entirely.

So, yes, Hitoshi is quite used to worrying about his Moms and uncles. However, worrying about his soul brother was a different matter. 

The way Izuku has gone completely silent feels completely wrong. The smile is completely gone from his face. In its place, there’s now an ashamed expression. His wings, which were fluttering excitedly a second ago, are completely still. There's no other word to describe the feeling than “Wrong.”

“Zuzu?” Hitoshi's voice carries a note of worry as he calls out to Izuku, who visibly flinches at the sound.

“Sorry.” Izuku mutters hurriedly, leaping from his bed. “I... I need to…” Without finishing his sentence, he bolts out of the room.

“Wait! Zuzu!” Hitoshi's voice rings with genuine concern as he hastens to follow Izuku's fleeing figure, his footsteps echoing urgently down the hallway.

Hurrying down the corridor, his heart pounding in his chest, Hitoshi manages to catch sight of Izuku just before he disappears into Uncle Shouta and Zashi's room, the door closing softly behind him.

Racing to catch up, Hitoshi arrives at the closed door, his hand poised to knock when he overhears voices drifting from within.

“-please. I want him to know.” Izuku's voice, though faint, carries a sense of urgency.

“Okay, we can tell him.” Uncle Zashi's reassuring reply filters through the door, offering a glimmer of hope amidst Hitoshi's growing apprehension.

Hitoshi knows he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but he’s worried, and he’s sure Uncle Shouta already knows he’s here. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Hitoshi hesitates for a moment before gently knocking on the door.

“Come in.” Uncle Shouta's voice invites him inside, and Hitoshi cautiously pushes the door open, stepping into the room.

Izuku is seated on the edge of the bed, between his parents, his expression downcast. Uncle Shouta and Zashi are nearby, both looking worriedly at Izuku. Uncle Shouta glances up at Hitoshi and gives him a small nod.

“What’s happening?” Hitoshi asks softly.

His Uncles exchange a worried glance before Uncle Zashi opens his mouth.

“It’s a long story.” He says. “But, Izuku wants you to know.”

“It's about... me.” Izuku begins, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. “I… I am…” He looks down, and Hitoshi can see the tears welling in his eyes. “I can’t… I want to, but…”

“Do you want me to tell him?” Uncle Shouta offers.

Izuku hesitates, then nods, rising from the bed once more. He murmurs something to his parents, too soft for Hitoshi to catch.

“It's fine, Zuzu.” Uncle Zashi soothes. “Do you want me to-”

“No.” Izuku interrupts, shaking his head. “I'll... I'll just be…”

“Don't leave the building.” Uncle Shouta interjects firmly. “I know this is hard for you, but it's for your safety.”

Izuku nods softly before walking out of the room, his head low as he passes by Hitoshi.

“Sorry…” Izuku mutters one more time before leaving the bedroom.

“Zuzu-” Hitoshi tries to call him, but Izuku closes the door.

An awkward silence follows Izuku’s departure. Hitoshi can feel his mind reeling with worry for his little brother. He almost reaches for the door to follow him until…

“Hitoshi.” Uncle Shouta's voice slices through the silence, commanding attention. Hitoshi straightens immediately, recognizing the gravity in his uncle's tone. It's a tone reserved for serious matters, one that Hitoshi has rarely encountered. “Sit down.” He instructs, gesturing to a nearby chair. Hitoshi complies without question, taking his seat as Uncle Shouta and Uncle Zashi settle on the bed.

“Yeah?” Hitoshi responds nervously, his curiosity piqued by the serious atmosphere.

“What we're about to tell you is very important and must stay in this room, understood?” Uncle Shouta's tone is unwavering, leaving no room for argument. “Legally, we shouldn't tell you. But Izuku wants you to know. It's about his past. It's going to be upsetting to hear, but you deserve to know.”

“Is this related to the reason why Izuku looks twice his actual age?” Hitoshi asks, his voice tinged with concern.

Uncle Shouta exchanges a glance with Uncle Zashi before nodding solemnly. “Yes, it's related.” He confirms.

The story that follows this statement is possibly the most unbelievable thing Hitoshi has ever heard in his life. If not for the seriousness etched in his Uncles' expressions and the undeniable truth behind their words, Hitoshi might have dismissed it as a prank.

Hitoshi learns that his soul brother is a clone—an experiment created by a mad scientist playing god. The person Izuku is based on is dead, just like his 14 other siblings. Izuku had been conditioned his whole life to be obedient to his creator, subjected to unimaginable abuse and torture that left him broken and compliant.

The night he was rescued, Izuku fought Uncle Shouta and almost killed him. Hitoshi can only imagine the immense guilt Izuku still carries from that moment.

Terrified of any kind of touch beyond gentle head pats, Izuku is clearly starved for affection, yet he struggles to accept it due to his traumatic past. To make matters worse, Izuku also grapples with severe survivor's guilt and doesn’t believe he's truly human.

Hitoshi isn’t one for tears, but even he can’t stop them from welling in his eyes as his Uncle finally finishes the story.

“He’s only six…” Hitoshi murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “How can anyone be so…” “Cruel” feels like too light a word to describe it. Hitoshi takes a deep breath and looks up. “What happened to... the Doctor?” He spits the last word, feeling like venom on his tongue.

Uncle Shouta's expression darkens at the mention of the Doctor. “He's... gone.” He says, his voice low and filled with anger. “For his crimes, he got the capital punishment. It happened two weeks ago.”

“The Doctor is gone.” Uncle Zashi adds. “But there were other people involved in it. The only one who knows who they are is Izuku, but he's far too terrified to say anything. Any mention of his past and he just…”

“Shuts down.” Uncle Shouta finishes for him.

Hitoshi's heart sinks at the implications.

“So, the people who did all that to Izuku... They are still around.” Hitoshi says, his voice tinged with concern and anger. “Could they try to get him back?”

Uncle Shouta's jaw tightens, his frustration evident. “It's possible.” He admits with a heavy sigh. “But we're doing everything in our power to protect Izuku.”

“We are actually pretty lucky Izuku has you and Nedzu around.” Uncle Zashi adds.

“We both are his soul brothers…” Hitoshi realizes, the implications sinking in. “This means we are fundamentally walking trackers for Izuku.”

“Exactly!” Uncle Zashi replies with a smile. “Shouta and I can feel whenever Izuku is distressed. You and Nedzu can track him if anyone manages to get him. Not that we intend to ever let this happen, but it’s great to be ready, ya dig?”

“Yeah, I get it.” Hitoshi nods before looking down. “So… The reason why Izuku was so down… He thinks I’ll hate him after learning all that.”

“Yes. He’ll need a lot of reassurance.” Uncle Shouta nods.

Hitoshi nods before getting up from his chair. “Is there anything else I need to know?” He asks.

“There is, but it can wait.” Uncle Zashi replies. “For now, Izuku needs you.”

“Then I’m going.” Hitoshi says and rushes for the door.

Hitoshi is not sure where Izuku is, but as he closes his eyes for a second, he feels a pull. Like there’s a thread tied around his wrist and pulling him in a direction. The feeling is faint, probably because his soulmark isn’t filled yet, but it’s more than enough for him. Hitoshi simply lets the pull guide him.

-- . .- -. .-- .... .. .-.. .

As Izuku sits on the rooftop, wrestling with his thoughts, a gentle breeze brushes against his face, carrying the scent of the city below. His heart feels heavy with the weight of his fears and uncertainties.

He knows he's a good boy. That's what he's been taught his whole life. That’s just how things are supposed to be. Being a good boy is the only way to prevent the pain. If he’s a good boy he won’t be punished

Dad and Papa aren't like the Doctor. They won't hurt him just for making a mistake. He knows that logically. But logic can only do so much to silence the voice of fear inside him. It whispers that he must always be obedient, always comply, to avoid punishment.

His wings twitch with the desire to spread wide and soar into the sky, but he resists. Dad asked him to stay in the building, and he's determined to obey. He needs to be a good boy.

If he keeps being a good boy, Dad and Papa will continue loving him, right? 

He can continue being a good boy for them, it's easy. He's already so used to it.

Then there's Toshi-Nii. Izuku can't shake the fear of how his soul brother will react now that he knows the truth about him. Will Toshi-Nii see him as a monster and turn away? The mere thought brings tears to Izuku's eyes. He can't bear the idea of losing Toshi-Nii's love.

Lost in his thoughts, Izuku's unseeing eyes drift to the sky above, a vast expanse of blue stretching endlessly - as Aka had described. Izuku wishes he could see it at least once. For all that his quirks are useful, they could never give him true eyesight. Izuku could never see the beauties of this world that most people take for granted.

Suddenly, the sound of the door opening snaps Izuku out of his musing.

“Zuzu?” Izuku freezes, his heart pounding in his chest as he hears Toshi-Nii's voice calling out to him.

How did he know Izuku would be up here? Panic surges through him, and he presses a hand against his mouth, trying to quiet his breathing as he remains still, hoping Toshi-Nii won't notice him.

The footsteps draw closer, echoing softly on the rooftop, and Izuku's mind races with a hundred different scenarios of what might happen if Toshi-Nii finds him here. Will he be disappointed? Angry? Will he hate Izuku now that he knows the truth?

The door creaks softly as it swings shut, and Izuku holds his breath, his entire body tense with anticipation. He forces his eyes shut, praying that Hitoshi will just leave. He can’t handle seeing Hitoshi’s expression now.

He can’t bear seeing his brother looking at him with disgust, saying what Izuku already knows - that he’s not human and Dad made a mistake saving him. That he should have died in that lab like the others.

“Zuzu? Are you up here.” Toshi-Nii's voice draws closer, causing Izuku's breath to hitch. “Come out, Zuzu. I know you're here.”

Izuku tenses up with every step his brother takes, overwhelmed by the urge to hide and disappear. He buries his face in his knees, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him.

Toshi-Nii's footsteps continue to echo on the silent rooftop, making Izuku's heart pound like a drum. Suddenly, the sounds still, and if he couldn't hear his brother's heartbeat, he'd think he disappeared. But he knows Hitoshi is right next to him, and he can feel his brother's stare.

Izuku forces down his panic, summoning all his courage to speak, though he keeps his head bowed, unable to meet his brother's gaze. His heart pounds in his chest, a maelstrom of emotions swirling within him.

“You know,” he states quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, “what I am.”

“You are Izuku.” Hitoshi replies, his voice steady. “My soul brother.”

Izuku flinches at the words, his hands trembling as they clutch at his hair. “But I'm a freak.” He insists, his voice choked with emotion. “I'm just a clone. I've been made to kill, Toshi!”

Hitoshi's expression softens with understanding, and he moves closer to Izuku, kneeling beside him on the rooftop. He reaches out and gently pulls Izuku's hands from his hair, offering a reassuring touch.

“Izuku.” He says gently, meeting his brother's eyes with a reassuring gaze. “I don't care what you were made to be. You are so much more than just a clone.”

He pauses, his voice filled with warmth and affection as he continues. “You are Izuku. You love stuffing your cheeks with fruits. You're passionate about quirks, and you can go for hours on a rant whenever you find an interesting one. You're one of the first people I met who wasn't scared of my quirk. You like humming silly songs you heard on Uncle Zashi's show. You are the most adorable kid in the world when you wrap yourself in a blanket like a burrito.” Hitoshi's hand comes to rest on Izuku's head, his touch gentle and reassuring. “My brother Izuku.” He says softly. “This is who you are. And that's all that matters.”

Feeling overwhelmed by Hitoshi's words and the flood of emotions within him, Izuku chokes back a sob. Without another thought, he launches himself forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Hitoshi in a desperate hug. Taken by surprise, Hitoshi stumbles backward, his arms instinctively wrapping around Izuku as they tumble to the rooftop floor in a tangled heap.

Izuku sobs as he buries his face in Hitoshi's chest, his tears soaking through the fabric of his brother's shirt. His words are unintelligible amidst his tears, incapable of putting his gratitude into coherent sentences. All he can do is cling to Hitoshi, seeking solace and comfort in his brother's embrace.

Hitoshi holds Izuku close, his own emotions running high as he strokes his brother's hair soothingly. From behind Hitoshi, Izuku can hear a constant voice, the comforting presence of Hitoshi's shadow offering reassurance in the form of a whispered mantra.

“You are my brother. I'll protect you.” The shadow repeats again and again.

How can Izuku not believe that? Shadows don’t lie. That’s the one universal truth that Izuku knows.

At that moment, amidst the tears and the embrace of his brother, Izuku senses a glimmer of hope. He knows that everything won't be magically right just yet. He still has years of conditioning to overcome, scars that run deep, and fears that linger in the shadows of his mind. But despite it all, he feels like he's on the right path. Maybe one day, he will be capable of truly believing he’s more than a monster.

Chapter Text

The concept of soulmates had always been foreign to Izuku. The doctor had mentioned it a few times in passing, but always in a context that twisted the notion into something sinister. At the time, Izuku only knew about the existence of romantic soulmates.

Izuku dared to ask once about the subject, and the response was seared into his memory like a brand.

“Soulmarks? Why would a soulless clone have a soulmark? If you think you could have one, you’re even stupider than your defective brother,” the doctor had sneered. “If you have time to wonder about those stupid things, then I guess you’re not training enough. Maybe another weekend with Sensei’s brat will set you right.”

That encounter left Izuku with scars he dared not revisit. He never raised the topic of soulmarks again, not with the doctor or anyone else. He didn’t have the courage to look for answers on his own, either. So, Izuku buried the concept in the back of his mind and never thought about it again. Soulmates were something that only humans had, and Izuku wasn’t human. Simple like that.

After his rescue, the discovery of his soulmarks felt like a revelation wrapped in uncertainty. Hizashi and Shouta were marked as his Soul Parents, Nedzu and Hitoshi as his Soul Brothers. And then there was one more mark from someone unknown, a mystery lingering on his skin.

Did this mean Izuku had a soul of his own despite being a clone of the original Mikumo? Were these soulmates truly his, or had he stolen them from Mikumo?

Roosted within the familiar embrace of his wardrobe, Izuku wrestled with sleeplessness, his mind swirling with unanswerable questions. He scolded himself silently, recognizing that he shouldn’t be fixated on such doubts—his Dads would likely agree. Yet, the persistent uncertainty nagged at him.

“Dad said I’m human. Papa said I’m human. Toshi said I’m human. Nezzy said I’m human,” Izuku murmured softly to himself. “Then why is it so hard to believe?”

His fingers traced along his shoulder blades, unable to reach beneath the wings where he knew his soulmarks resided. The marks were tangible evidence of Izuku’s soul, but still, doubt lingered like a stubborn shadow.

Sighing, Izuku gracefully descended from his perch within the wardrobe. He straightened himself, opened the doors, and stepped into the darkness of his room. Despite his blindness, Izuku’s familiarity with the space allowed him to navigate confidently through the shadows. His Dads knew he preferred to keep his room dark and filled with plenty of shadows.

Usually, his room was a comforting refuge—a tangible symbol that Izuku was no longer in the lab. It was his own space, one his Dads respected by entering only with Izuku’s permission, except in emergencies. But tonight felt different.

A coldness settled over Izuku’s chest, a sensation he couldn’t quite place. He felt an unexplained longing, a yearning for something beyond his comprehension. His scorpion tail swayed restlessly behind him, indicating his inner quirks were unsettled.

Izuku’s quirks rarely clashed; their shared fear of the doctor usually kept them in harmony. However, tonight was an exception. The Scorpion and the Snake were fighting, their conflicting instincts causing tension within Izuku’s mind. The Goat, typically the peacemaker, felt ignored, while the Bat remained hidden, frightened by the internal discord.

“Please, don’t fight,” Izuku pleaded inwardly, his thoughts directed at his inner quirks. Desperate to understand, Izuku implored his quirks for clarity. “What do you want? Scorpion, Snake, please tell me.”

In response, Izuku’s mind was flooded with a tumult of emotions and fragmented memories—flashes of fear, pain, and turmoil. The Scorpion’s anger reverberated through Izuku’s consciousness, upset by the boy’s inner struggles.

The Snake, in turn, directed its anger toward the Scorpion for lashing out at Izuku.

“I’m sorry,” Izuku murmured softly, his words a silent plea to his inner voices. “I’m doing my best to improve, Scorpion. Please understand.”

As Izuku reflected, another vivid memory flashed in his mind—the moment he inadvertently stabbed his Dad, Shouta, with his scorpion tail during their altercation. Guilt and regret washed over him like a wave as he relived that painful memory.

“I... I’ve been trying to suppress you since that day…” Izuku’s voice was soft, tinged with remorse as he finally understood what was fueling the Scorpion’s anger. “Quirks don’t like being suppressed.”

Deep down, Izuku knew this truth. Quirks were an integral part of a person’s being and yearned to be utilized. Suppressing a quirk was never a sustainable solution. Despite this knowledge, Izuku never manifested his scorpion tail unless absolutely necessary. Unlike his other quirks, which were passive and involuntary, the Scorpion was something he could consciously hide, and that’s precisely what he had been doing.

The internal conflict among his quirks mirrored Izuku’s own inner turmoil. As he acknowledged the Scorpion’s frustration, a sense of determination sparked within him. He needed to find a way to reconcile with this aspect of himself—to embrace it rather than suppress it.

“I’m sorry, Scorpion,” Izuku whispered, addressing his inner turmoil. “I’m not being fair to you. It wasn’t your fault. You were scared, just like me.”

His words seemed to have a calming effect on the Scorpion, and slowly, the inner turmoil began to subside. The Snake, no longer needing to contend with the Scorpion’s anger, also quieted down.

“I need to move on,” Izuku muttered, his voice steadier now. “That’s what you’ve been trying to tell me, right?” A memory flashed in Izuku’s mind—his Dads’ warm hugs and reassurances. “I’m not alone anymore… Thank you, Scorpion. I promise I won’t neglect you again. You’re a part of me, just like the others.”

As Izuku focused on accepting this aspect of himself, he felt his Scorpion tail go limp behind him. The quirk ceased its angry thrashing, and Izuku regained control. Instead of tucking the tail away, he allowed it to coil around his waist, embracing this part of his identity.

Feeling a sense of peace wash over him, Izuku made his way to the door. Upon opening it, he immediately sensed the presence of his parents, their comforting heartbeats and warmth.

“Dad? Papa?” Izuku called out, his voice soft.

“Hey, Zuzu,” Papa responded, crouching down to his level. “We felt all that,” he acknowledged gently.

Izuku blushed in embarrassment and looked down, feeling exposed. 

“Sorry,” he murmured. “It was a... disagreement. Conflicting instincts and…” He trailed off, unwrapping his tail. “I realized I can’t keep hiding.”

Papa’s heartbeat spiked slightly at the sight of Izuku’s tail, but he quickly regained composure and placed a reassuring hand on Izuku’s shoulder.

“That’s very brave of you, Zuzu,” Papa said with a warm smile.

“You are right,” Dad added softly. “Suppressing a part of you isn’t healthy. You should be allowed to use your quirks—all of them.”

Papa turned back to Izuku. “I don’t think I ever said that, and I really should have. I’m sorry it took me so long,” he admitted. “What happened with Shouta wasn’t your fault, Izuku. But you still saved his life in the end. I’m grateful for that.”

Izuku felt a surge of emotions as he heard his Papa’s words. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Tears welled up in his eyes, but a wide smile spread across his face.

“Thank you,” Izuku said, his voice thick with emotion, before throwing himself into his Papa’s arms.

Papa enveloped him in a warm embrace, holding Izuku close. A brief hum from the loud blond was all the invitation needed for Dad to join as well, and Izuku wrapped his wings around both of them.

The hug lasted for a long time, but eventually, they had to pull away. As they began to settle back down to sleep, a thought occurred to Izuku. He usually slept better when he could roost, but the idea of returning to his room now made something coil in his stomach.

As Dad started to get up, Izuku found himself grasping his sleeve.

“Dad... Can I…” Izuku hesitated, his cheeks coloring slightly with embarrassment. 

Dad paused, his expression gentle and encouraging. “Of course, Zuzu. What is it?”

Izuku took a deep breath, mustering his courage. “Can I sleep with you and Papa tonight?” he asked softly. 

The boy felt like a little child asking this question. (He ignored the part of his brain saying that was exactly what he was.)

Papa and Dad exchanged a glance, their eyes soft and understanding. Dad then nodded, a warm smile spreading across his face.

“Of course, Izuku,” Dad said reassuringly. “We’d love to have you with us tonight.”

Papa reached out, tousling Izuku’s hair affectionately. “Come on, let’s all go to bed together.”

Izuku felt a rush of relief and gratitude. He followed his dads back to their room, feeling safe and comforted by their presence. As they settled in for the night, Izuku curled up between his two dads, using his wings as a blanket. His heart filled with warmth and a sense of belonging. It felt like the last pieces of a puzzle were finally clicking in place.

Suddenly, his earlier doubts and turmoils didn’t seem that important anymore.

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .- -- .- --.. .. -. --.

Hitoshi reclined on the couch, his eyes fixed on the action-packed scenes unfolding on the TV screen. The sound of gunfire and metal clashing filled the room as the T-800 relentlessly pursued Sarah Connor. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement at the intense action.

Beside him, Izuku sat with rapt attention, his ears keenly tuned to the movie’s audio. 

Maybe showing Terminator to his six-year-old soul brother wasn’t the most responsible decision, Hitoshi mused inwardly. But then again, he never claimed to be a good influence. Besides, it wasn’t like Izuku could actually see the violence; he was just experiencing the audio.

Well, not being able to see the scenes didn’t seem to be a problem for the Bitten anyway. Izuku was utterly engrossed in the storyline, his mind undoubtedly conjuring all the scenes he needed to understand the movie.

As the tension in the movie reached its peak, Hitoshi stole a glance at Izuku. Despite being unable to see the screen, Izuku’s expression mirrored the scene’s intensity. His brows furrowed in concentration, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

“Are you enjoying the movie, Zuzu?” Hitoshi asked, torn between amusement and concern.

Izuku nodded eagerly, a wide grin spreading across his face. “It’s so exciting, Toshi-Nii! I can’t believe how fast the Terminator is! He’s so focused. He just doesn’t stop!”

Hitoshi chuckled softly at Izuku’s enthusiasm. When he suggested watching that movie, he fully expected Izuku to be scared and ask to watch something else. He should have known better, though. Izuku had seemed too much in his life to be scared of a movie like that.

“Yeah, the Terminator is pretty relentless,” Hitoshi agreed, his eyes returning to the screen as the chase scene intensified. “But you know, Sarah Connor is pretty tough too. She’s not going down without a fight.”

“Yeah.” Izuku nodded before a frown appeared on his face. “You know…”

“Yeah, Zuzu?” Hitoshi gently coaxed his little brother.

“I was just thinking,” he began slowly, his voice thoughtful. “The Terminator, he’s like a villain, right? But he’s also just doing what he was programmed to do. He doesn’t have a choice. It’s like... he’s a victim too.”

Hitoshi raised an eyebrow, impressed by Izuku’s insight. “That’s a pretty deep observation, Zuzu.”

“I guess.” Izuku shrugged. “Maybe I’m projecting a little.”

Hitoshi chuckled softly at Izuku’s humility. “Maybe, but it’s still an interesting perspective. It’s kind of like what you’ve been through, huh?”

Izuku’s brows furrowed in thought. “Yeah, I guess so,” he replied after a moment. “The Doctor, he was like the one who programmed the Terminator. He made me do things, hurt people... Just like the Terminator.”

Hitoshi’s expression softened with understanding. He knew how difficult it was for Izuku to talk about his past, but he was proud of his brother for opening up. There were many things that he could say to that. However, he set on trying to lighten the mood a little.

“I’m sure you’d be a terrifying Terminator,” he said with a smile. “Besides, I won’t spoil things, but I think you’ll have a great surprise when we watch Terminator 2.”

“There’s more?” Izuku asked, his unseeing eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Oh, you can bet there is,” Hitoshi replied with a smirk, already anticipating Izuku’s reaction.

As soon as they finished the first movie, Hitoshi queued up the second. Izuku’s reaction to the movie’s plot twist didn’t disappoint Hitoshi in the least.

“The T-800…” Izuku started softly. “IS THE HERO NOW!?” he yelled excitedly.

“Yep. The former villain is now the hero,” Hitoshi said with a grin.

They both knew it was just a movie, but once more, the Terminator felt like a mirror for Izuku’s experiences. Even an emotionless robot like the T-800 could become a hero. As the movie goes on, the initially unfeeling robot learns how to feel and love, culminating in his sacrifice in the end for John Connor’s sake.

Hitoshi found himself more focused on watching Izuku than the movie itself. His little brother’s engrossment was utterly adorable.

Once the credits rolled, Izuku looked up at Hitoshi, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Hitoshi chuckled, sensing trouble brewing. “What’s on your mind, Zuzu?” he asked, preparing himself for whatever mischief Izuku had in store.

“That’s it. From now on, I’m calling my focus mode ‘Terminator Mode,’” Izuku declared with a mischievous grin.

Hitoshi couldn’t help but laugh, though a pang of apprehension also tugged at him. He knew there was no way Izuku’s Dads wouldn’t find out that Hitoshi showed Izuku a bunch of movies he was definitely too young to watch. Time to start praying that Uncle Shouta wouldn’t kill him.

Chapter Text

Izuku’s training sessions with Shouta progressed smoothly. Despite the traumatic circumstances under which he had acquired his skills, Izuku’s abilities were incredibly advanced and well-suited for a future Underground hero.

The boy moved with a fluid grace, his attacks precise and efficient. There wasn’t much Shouta needed to teach him in terms of combat technique. As horrible as the doctor was to Izuku, the things he taught were all valuable assets for an Underground hero. What Shouta needed to focus on was teaching him restraint and using less lethal methods to neutralize threats.

Shouta couldn’t help but think that with Izuku’s diverse skill set, he could probably go toe-to-toe with 90% of the current top heroes. His potential was immense. Between his scorpion stinger being capable of applying basically any poison Izuku knew the composition of and his shadow manipulation quirk, Izuku had plenty of ways to take down an enemy in just a moment.

Given the right circumstances and a bit of surprise, Shouta was sure Izuku could even take down All Might himself. It wouldn’t even be that hard. After all, the buffoon’s situation awareness was even worse than some of Shouta’s first years. Guess that’s the result of being so powerful that no one ever posed a risk to him.

Training Izuku was almost effortless. The kid never complained, no matter how much Shouta pushed him. He always paid full attention to Shouta’s instructions and followed them to a T. It was a trait that helped the training progress smoothly, but it was still something that pained Shouta.

He knew that this was mostly due to Izuku’s conditioning. Shouta always had to keep an attentive eye on Izuku to make sure he wasn’t pushing himself past what he could handle. Izuku always slipped on his so-called “Terminator Mode” (Shouta had a Long talk with Hitoshi after he learned the reason behind the name) when he was in training, and in that mode, he would ignore everything that wasn’t a direct order or relevant to the mission.

After a few months, Shouta learned that ordering Izuku to inform him when he was nearing his limits worked well with the kid, but it wasn’t something Shouta liked doing. Shouta hated giving Izuku orders. Both he and Hizashi always made sure to mind their words when Izuku was like that.

Especially after the incident a few months ago, when Shouta told Izuku he wanted his room sparkling clean and, a few hours later, found Izuku hanging from the ceiling trying to clean a stain with a toothbrush. Izuku followed instructions very literally when he was like that, and sometimes, it took Shouta and Zashi too long to realize their kid had slipped into those habits once more.

The soulmark helped since they were very tuned to Izuku’s emotions all the time. However, after getting used to that, it became a little hard to notice when they became muted. They tried to make a habit of checking it at least once every hour.

As the days melded into months and the months into years, Shouta and Hizashi seamlessly integrated Izuku’s unique needs and cues into their daily routines. Monitoring their son’s emotional well-being became as natural for them as breathing.

Before they realized it, two whole years had passed, and Izuku grew at an astonishing rate. While Shouta had known Izuku would grow up fast, seeing it firsthand still took him aback. Two years ago, Izuku appeared to be twelve, but now he looked like a sixteen year old kid. In fact, he appeared older than Hitoshi despite being half his soul brother’s age.

Despite the passage of time, Shouta and Hizashi had succeeded in gradually coaxing Izuku to act more like his age. Nowadays, Izuku didn’t feel shy or embarrassed about acting like the child he was anymore. He only acted older on the bad days, when he slipped into old habits. But when that happened, his family was always there to bring him back and remind him that he was safe.

Shouta couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at how far Izuku had come since he first joined their family.

As the two-year training period drew to a close, so did the time allotted by the HPSC for Izuku’s training. With just three months remaining until UA’s entrance exams, Shouta found himself behind the wheel, driving Izuku to Dagoba National Stadium for his provisional hero license exam. While he knew Izuku was more than good enough to pass the test, regardless of any sanctions the HPSC might attempt to impose, his nerves remained palpable beneath his stoic exterior.

Maintaining an air of calm was imperative, especially for Izuku’s sake. Shouta knew his son was more nervous about the exam than anyone else. Failure would mean being taken away from his family by the HPSC. Something Shouta would not let it happen even if he had to turn villain to avoid it.

Beside him, Hizashi occupied the shotgun seat, sending occasional worried glances in Izuku’s direction. Their car was custom-made - Nedzu’s courtesy - to be as comfortable as possible for someone with wings.

Both parents could feel Izuku’s nerves through their soul bond, but Hitoshi was doing his part to alleviate them. Seated beside Izuku, Shouta’s nephew engaged in an animated tale, regaling Izuku with a dramatic account of Duchess Fluffington’s failed attempt to clear an eight-inch gate.

“Eight inches, Zuzu! A mere eight fu— freaking inches gate!” Hitoshi exclaimed theatrically, his gestures exaggerated for effect. “And what does she do? She crawls! She’s a cat! She jumps. She climbs. She was designed to do that, and she CRAWLS under the gate?”

Despite his nerves, Izuku let out a tiny giggle as Hitoshi told the story, which Shouta took as an absolute win. Shouta observed as the tension on his son’s shoulders eased slightly, but he could feel through the bound that he didn’t really feel much better.

“Sounds like Duchess Fluffington needs some hero training herself,” Izuku quipped, a faint smile gracing his lips.

“Or maybe she needs to lay off the snacks,” Hitoshi retorted with a grin. “She already looks like a pumpkin. She doesn’t need to be the size of one as well!”

“At least she’s cute, though?” Izuku offered.

“And she knows how to wield that cuteness like a weapon. Mom’s defenseless against those kitten eyes,” Hitoshi chuckled. “A single meow and a sad face, and Mom’s already opening the snacks cabinet. How’s a cat supposed to lose weight like that?”

The playful banter continued throughout the remainder of the car ride, serving as a welcome distraction from the looming exam. By the time they arrived at Dagoba National Stadium, Izuku had managed to relax marginally. However, as soon as Shouta turned off the engine, the waves of anxiety came back with a vengeance, causing Shouta to almost experience emotional whiplash from the intensity of the feedback through their soul bond. He knew Hizashi wasn’t faring much better.

However, there was no time to dwell on their own inner turmoil. With a deep breath, Shouta exited the car and opened the door for Izuku, gently unbuckling his son and helping him out of the vehicle. Meanwhile, Hizashi grabbed a silver case with the number 15 on it from the trunk. Shouta really thought it was in poor taste, but since Izuku had said he liked it, Shouta held his tongue.

Before joining the bustling crowd of hero hopefuls, Shouta knelt down in front of Izuku, the boy still not having hit his growth spurt and thus standing shorter than most (Shouta had a feeling he would always be on the short side, though.) This position allowed Shouta to meet his son’s eyes, even knowing Izuku couldn’t really see him.

“Zuzu, kid,” Shouta said softly. “I know this is happening sooner than we’d hoped. I really didn’t want you to have to go through this yet.”

“But it’s the only way,” Izuku replied, resignedly. “They won’t let me stay with you.”

“They won’t,” Shouta nodded, feeling a pang of guilt at the unfairness of it all. But he couldn’t dwell on that now. “But you’ll show them it was a mistake to underestimate you.”

“What if I fail?” Izuku asked, fear creeping into his voice. “I don’t want to leave you and Papa. I love you.”

“We love you too, Izuku,” Shouta smiled, his heart aching at his son’s worry. He placed a reassuring hand on Izuku’s shoulder, feeling Hizashi’s hand on the other. “And we won’t let anyone take you, Zuzu,” Hizashi added, his smirk hiding a fierce determination. “If we have to go rogue to keep you safe, we will.”

“Please, don’t become villains for my sake,” Izuku replied with a wet giggle, trying to lighten the mood.

“Then go in there and get your license,” Shouta said with one of his feral grins. “We’ll be waiting for you, and when ,” when, not if, “you finish, we’ll go home and celebrate with Papa’s apple pie.” Leaning in, he whispered conspiratorially, “I’ll even help you sneak a few apples while Papa is busy baking.”

Izuku’s laughter filled the air, easing the tension in the moment. Shouta could feel his son’s nerves gradually easing, replaced by determination and resolve.

Shouta’s heart swelled with pride as he watched Izuku. He and Zashi leaned in, wrapping their arms around Izuku in a big family hug. Izuku, feeling the warmth and reassurance of their embrace, wrapped his wings around them protectively and let out a small sniffle on Shouta’s shoulder.

“You got this, Zuzu. We believe in you,” Shouta said softly, his voice filled with unwavering support.

“You already saved my life. You’re already a hero,” Zashi added, his pride evident in every word.

Izuku nodded, feeling their love and confidence wash over him. Before he could say anything else, Hitoshi joined in, tackling Izuku into another hug.

“Don’t forget about me!” Hitoshi exclaimed, his arms wrapped tightly around his soul brother.

He effortlessly lifted Izuku off the ground - the little Bitten was very light - and spun him around, eliciting even more giggles from the young boy. A few seconds later, he gently placed Izuku back on the floor.

“Of course, Toshi-Nii,” Izuku said with a grin. “I’ll win for you too!”

“Damn right, you will!” Hitoshi laughed, giving Izuku a pat on the head.

“Now, we need to get going, but do you have everything you need?” Zashi asked, his smile warm and encouraging.

“Yes, I do,” Izuku replied, his determination shining. “It’s time!”

With a final hug and hair ruffle, Shouta, Hizashi, and Hitoshi sent Izuku on his way and made their way to the viewing area so they could watch the test. Shouta was still nervous. No parent worth their salt would be calm in a situation like this. But he trusted Izuku to be ready to crush this exam.

Besides, unlike the situations Shouta’s students usually faced, Izuku had never participated in the Sports Festival. No one here knew his quirks, giving Izuku an edge over the other hero hopefuls. Or at least Izuku wasn’t at a disadvantage.

Settling into their seats, Shouta, Hizashi, and Hitoshi braced themselves for the nerve-wracking wait ahead. The atmosphere in the viewing area was charged with anticipation, the crowd’s collective energy almost tangible.

The Provisional License Exam was notorious for its brutal nature, boasting a pass rate of less than 50%. It was a grueling test designed to weed out those who weren’t prepared to face the challenges of heroism. But Shouta knew all too well that quirks and biases often influenced the decisions of the judging board. For individuals with “undesirable quirks,” the pass rate plummeted to a mere 20%.

It was a grim reality, one that Shouta despised but couldn’t change. The hero industry was rife with prejudice and bias, a truth that weighed heavily on his mind as they waited for Izuku’s results. He clenched his jaw, suppressing the urge to launch into another tirade about All Might and his flawed “Era of Peace.” Today was about Izuku, and Shouta was determined to support him through whatever challenges lay ahead.

As the announcer’s voice reverberated through the viewing area, breaking the tense silence, Shouta, Hizashi, and Hitoshi leaned forward in their seats, their attention fully captured. The first phase of the exam was about to begin, and the hero hopefuls were entering the arena.

The first round was deceptively simple: a free-for-all elimination match. The examinees were scattered across multiple fields, each tasked with hitting three targets located around their opponents’ bodies. Once participants lost all three targets, they were eliminated from the test. The exam would only end once half of the examinees were eliminated, adding an element of strategy and survival to the competition.

A quick glance around the crowded viewing area was all it took for Shouta to spot his son, already clad in his hero costume. Despite the tension in the air, a small smile tugged at the corners of Shouta’s lips as he laid eyes on Izuku.

Izuku had opted for a simple yet practical hero costume reminiscent of Shouta’s own attire. The design featured a dark green jumpsuit bordering on black, with long sleeves and sturdy knee-high boots. An utility belt adorned his waist, providing easy access to any tools or gadgets he might need during the exam.

Notably, the jumpsuit had strategic holes cut out in the back to accommodate Izuku’s tail and wings, ensuring comfort and mobility. Around his neck, Izuku wore a simple black cloth, which Shouta recognized as a blindfold.

As the announcer signaled the start of the first phase of the exam, Shouta observed Izuku’s preparations. With practiced ease, Izuku tied the cloth securely around his eyes then, with a deep breath, Izuku steadied himself. It was time.

As the announcer’s countdown reached its climax and the word “start” echoed through the arena, Izuku wasted no time. With a burst of energy, he propelled himself into action, leaping into the air with remarkable agility. His wings unfurled gracefully, catching the updrafts as he soared above the arena.

The movement was swift and nearly silent, catching many off guard. Even those watching Izuku closely found themselves momentarily confused, their gazes darting around the arena in search of the kid who seemed to disappear.

Shouta couldn’t help but smirk at the scene before him. His worry quickly melted into pride. Izuku had this one in the bag.

Chapter Text

From his vantage point high above the arena, Izuku observed the chaos unfolding below. Dozens of heat signatures scrambled in a frantic melee, their movements sharp and erratic. Every whisper, every sharp breath, every collision of bodies reached his keen ears, painting a vivid auditory map of the battlefield.

As the initial adrenaline rush subsided, Izuku felt himself slipping into Terminator Mode, his mind rapidly strategizing. The earlier nervousness evaporated, replaced by a laser-focused determination. Two primary directives dominated his thoughts: pass the exam and avoid using lethal force.

Assessing the battlefield, Izuku identified clusters of examinees locked in combat and isolated individuals trying to avoid attention. His ability to fly already gave him a significant advantage over the others, and he was more than willing to capitalize on this fact. Most people never thought of looking up, and silent takedowns were his specialty.

Though, he had to wonder. Just who taught those people? Izuku had felt so many eyes on him before the test started, yet no one noticed the pair of huge bat wings on his back? Well, their dumbness is Izuku’s advantage.

With a plan forming, he dove down, wings tucked in to increase his speed. Just before reaching a group of three examinees who were too engrossed in their skirmish to notice him, he unfurled his wings, breaking his fall with a sudden stop. He lashed out with his tail, targeting the sensors on each of their bodies with precision. The targets lit up simultaneously, signaling their elimination.

Before any of the nearby participants could react, Izuku was back in the air, the kids he had just eliminated staring at each other in shock, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

From above, Izuku scanned the arena again, identifying his next targets. He spotted a group of four examinees working together, clearly trying to overwhelm solo participants. Izuku's mind calculated the best approach to dismantle their teamwork.

He swooped down again, this time activating Shadow Manipulation. Shadows from nearby structures stretched and wrapped around the feet of the four examinees, momentarily immobilizing them. Izuku didn’t even need to approach this time, the shadows quickly speared through the sensors, the lights flaring up to indicate their elimination.

This went on for a few more minutes until people finally started catching on to what was happening. Izuku's relentless efficiency and unpredictability were causing confusion and panic among the remaining participants. Most of the group started huddling close together, keeping an eye on all sides.

Yet, they still weren’t looking up.

Izuku spotted another isolated participant, a girl with some type of speed quirk, darting between covers. He swooped down silently, landing softly behind her. This one noticed Izuku, probably her quirk also gave her better response time, but it wasn’t enough.

Before she could react, Izuku’s tail struck her thigh, pumping a light paralytic poison that locked her muscles and made her fall down. Izuku then hit the sensors. Once the girl was eliminated, he once more jabbed his tail on her thigh, this time with the antidote, before flying once more.

However, the few extra seconds he took this time were enough for people to finally notice his presence and start pointing him out. The whispers and gasps grew louder, and he heard hushed talks about a truce. The arena's dynamics shifted as several groups stopped fighting each other, uniting against the aerial threat.

A split second later, a barrage of quirks and projectiles hurtled towards him from all directions. Izuku's heightened senses kicked into overdrive. He dodged the incoming attacks with swift, acrobatic maneuvers, his wings folding and unfolding rapidly to change directions mid-flight. The thing about his goat quirk is that the near-perfect sense of balance also applied to his flight skills, allowing him to do the most insane acrobatics mid-air.

Twisting and turning, Izuku navigated the storm of attacks, barely giving his opponents a chance to track his movements. He used the structures and obstacles within the arena to his advantage, ducking behind pillars and diving through narrow gaps to evade capture.

He spotted a small cluster of examinees gathered around a central pillar, using it as both cover and a strategic vantage point. Izuku quickly took note of their quirks. He saw two higher heat signatures, indicating fire quirks. The wind around one of them was blowing stronger. There was one that seemed bigger than the others, but his internal heath was different, more rock-like. The last one had a body shape that reminded Izuku of a lizard.

With a sharp dive, Izuku descended towards them. The examinees saw him coming and unleashed a flurry of attacks, which Izuku blocked by covering himself with his wings. They ended up slightly singed and with a few cuts, but that would heal in just a few seconds.

Landing right in the middle of the group, Izuku spread his arms, shadows swirling around his body.

“Witching hour,” Izuku muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the chaos of the battlefield.

The shadows responded to his command, spreading out in all directions. They wove together seamlessly, forming a dome-shaped barrier that enveloped Izuku and the surrounding examinees and throwing everyone into the darkness.

“Kyaaaa!” Izuku heard a girl's shriek pierce through the darkness.

The examinees scrambled in the pitch-black darkness, their movements erratic as they tried to locate Izuku. Despite their efforts, they couldn't see anything; the dome of shadows rendered them blind to their surroundings.

For Izuku, however, being blind was an advantage in this situation. The darkness had no effect on him. His heightened senses of heat detection and echolocation were completely independent of light. He stood calmly within the dome, relying on these senses to perceive the movements and positions of the examinees around him. He could hear their quickened breaths and the shuffling of their feet, indicating their confusion and fear.

“Where did he go?!” shouted one of the examinees with a fire quirk, the desperation clear in their voice as it echoed within the confined space.

“He's still here! I know it!” affirmed the girl with the wind quirk, her voice betraying nervousness.

Izuku remained silent, allowing the darkness to amplify their anxiety. He knew that psychological warfare was just as effective as physical combat in situations like these. His tail swished silently behind him as he moved with stealthy grace, his wings occasionally fluttering to adjust his position.

With a sudden burst of speed, Izuku made his move towards the fire quirks. His movements were swift and precise as he targeted the sensors on their bodies with calculated jabs from his tail. The lights on their targets illuminated simultaneously, indicating their swift elimination. The fire-quirked examinees yelped in surprise and frustration upon realizing they had been defeated without ever laying eyes on their opponent.

Next, Izuku shifted his focus to the wind manipulator. He dispatched his shadows, forming black tendrils that wrapped around the girl's legs, causing her to stumble and lose her balance. The shadows then climbed up her body, stifling her mouth and hampering her breathing. Seizing the opportunity in her moment of vulnerability, Izuku disabled her sensors with precise strikes, adding another eliminated opponent to his tally.

Four out of five wind quirks were depending on proper breathing techniques, and it seemed like hers was as well. 

The earth-based quirk user posed a bit more of a challenge. His body was covered in rock armor that Izuku's stinger couldn't break through directly. But Izuku didn't need to. Finding gaps in the armor, Izuku sent thin shadow tendrils that speared through and targeted the sensors. As the earth-based examinee realized his defeat, he slumped to the ground in resignation.

Before Izuku could locate the examinee with the lizard-like quirk, his tail raised instinctively and intercepted a sudden claw attack aimed at his face. Izuku felt the impact reverberate through his tail, but his reflexes rapidly kicked in. With a swift motion, he disengaged, flapping his wings to put distance between himself and the lizard quirk user. As he backed away, Izuku assessed his opponent.

The lizard quirk user was crouched low, his eyes fixed on Izuku with a predatory intensity. Izuku noted the sharp claws protruding from his fingers, likely his primary weapon in close combat. Despite the darkness, the examinee seemed adept at tracking Izuku's movements, suggesting he might possess a sensory ability, likely heat detection similar to Izuku's own.

Izuku briefly scanned the area outside the dome to ensure there were no other examinees nearby. Finding none, he realized that maintaining the dome was a waste of energy, especially since the lizard guy could see him even in the dark. With a mental command, Izuku allowed the shadows to dissipate, restoring visibility to the battlefield.

The sudden influx of light revealed the tense standoff between Izuku and the lizard guy. The two opponents circled each other cautiously, each waiting for the other to make a move. Izuku kept his wings slightly spread, ready to react to any sudden attack. The lizard quirk user remained low to the ground, his muscles coiled like springs, ready to pounce.

After a moment of tense silence, the lizard quirk user lunged forward, claws extended. Izuku anticipated the attack and dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the razor-sharp claws. As the lizard quirk user landed, Izuku countered with a quick series of strikes from his tail, aiming for the sensors on his body. The lizard guy reacted swiftly, deflecting Izuku's tail strikes with his claws.

As the lizard quirk user lunged forward, claws slashing through the air toward Izuku, the arena around them fell into a tense silence. Izuku reacted swiftly, attempting to block the attack with his wings, but the lizard's claws grazed his sensor, causing it to light up. Despite this, Izuku maintained his focus and retaliated immediately.

With a rapid movement of his tail, Izuku struck out toward the lizard quirk user, aiming for one of his sensors. The lizard guy, anticipating Izuku's counterattack, twisted his body to deflect the tail strike with his claws. The exchange was fast and precise, each combatant testing the other's reflexes and agility in the heat of battle.

The tension in the arena was palpable as spectators watched the intense duel unfold. Izuku remained calm and collected, his mind racing with strategies to overcome his opponent's defenses. The lizard quirk user continued to press forward aggressively, utilizing his claws with deadly precision.

As the duel intensified, Izuku noticed a pattern in the lizard quirk user's movements. With a calculated risk, Izuku feinted to the left, drawing the lizard guy into committing to a counterattack. Anticipating this moment, Izuku pivoted swiftly to the right and delivered a powerful strike with his tail, targeting a vulnerable spot on the lizard quirk user's body.

The tail strike found its mark, disabling one of the lizard guy's sensors. Frustration grunted from the lizard quirk user, momentarily throwing him off balance by Izuku's unexpected maneuver. Sensing the opening, Izuku swiftly followed with a barrage of attacks, his tail moving with precision as it targeted the remaining sensors on the lizard quirk user's body. 

The second sensor lit up as Izuku closed in on the final one, poised to secure his victory. However, just as he prepared to strike, a commanding voice reverberated throughout the arena, halting the ongoing battles.

“Half of the examinees have been eliminated. The preliminary phase of the Provisional Hero License Exam has concluded. Please, everyone, stop fighting.”

Izuku's tail halted abruptly, mere millimeters away from the lizard boy's last sensor. The tension in the arena palpably shifted as the chaos of battle came to an abrupt halt. Izuku and the lizard quirk user remained frozen in their combat stances, each processing the sudden end of the preliminary phase.

Around them, other examinees slowly lowered their defenses as the announcement sank in. The intense atmosphere of competition gave way to a mixture of relief and apprehension as everyone awaited further instructions from the examiners.

Izuku withdrew his tail and took a step back from the lizard quirk user, his senses still sharp and alert despite the adrenaline of battle. The lizard boy let out a heavy sigh of relief, realizing he had been saved by the bell, literally.

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .- -- .- --.. .. -. --.

“Holy shit, Uncle! You never told me Zuzu was such a fucking badass!” Hitoshi exclaimed, shaking Uncle Zashi's shoulder enthusiastically.

“One, language, Toshi. Two, Shou's the one who trained him, just look at him!” Uncle Zashi laughed heartily.

“He came like this,” Uncle Shou replied casually, taking a sip from his coffee thermos. “Also, Toshi, Izuku better not start swearing because of you.”

“You swear as much as I do! Who do you think I caught it from?” Hitoshi retored. “And you don't get to act like you weren't the most nervous of us all five minutes ago, Uncle!” he pointed a playful finger at his uncle. “Zuzu's killing it out there. Admit it.”

Uncle Shou chuckled softly, setting down his thermos. “Alright, alright. I'll admit, he's handling himself pretty damn well.”

“He's incredible,” Uncle Zashi chimed in proudly. “Just like we knew he would be.”

“He's our Zuzu,” Uncle Shou said quietly, a hint of a smile touching his lips as he watched Izuku's silhouette in the distance.

“Hey, Eraser, is that you?” A familiar female voice called out, causing Uncle Shouta to stiffen instantly in his seat.

“I'll go grab more coffee,” Uncle Shouta muttered, practically leaping from his seat to escape, just as the green-haired hero approached them.

“Oh, darn it. I was sure I'd get him to agree to a date this time,” she laughed as she took a seat next to Uncle Zashi. “Hey, Mic. How's life?”

“Hey, Joke,” Uncle Zashi greeted with a chuckle, shaking his head as he watched his husband flee from the Smile Hero. “Are you here with your class?”

“Yep, though not many of them are left this time,” Ms. Joke sighed, her gaze drifting to the arena. Hitoshi followed her eyes, which landed on Izuku. “Over half of them were eliminated by the demon child over there. I wonder who that is.”

“Demon child?” Zashi sputtered incredulously, while Hitoshi burst into laughter. “That's my sweet baby angel. He's not a demon!”

“He's a menace when he wants to be, Uncle,” Hitoshi replied with a mischievous grin. “Demon child is a perfect nickname for him.”

“Wait…” Ms. Joke blinked and turned back to Uncle Zashi. “Your sweet baby angel?” She grinned. “Is that your kid, Mic?”

“Well, not biologically, of course. We all know I'm straight as a circle,” Uncle Zashi chuckled. “We adopted him about two years ago.”

“Well, he's certainly skilled, but should he really be taking this test?” Ms. Joke asked, a hint of worry in her voice. “He's what? Thirteen?”

“You’re right, but not in the way you think,” Uncle Zashi replied with a shake of his head. “Biologically speaking, he's sixteen. But his actual and mental age is eight.”

“EIGHT!?” Ms. Joke exclaimed in shock. “Why is he here, then!?”

“HPSC,” Uncle Shouta's voice cut through the conversation, making Hitoshi jump as he appeared out of nowhere, already seated with a new thermos. “Do I need to say more?”

“Izuku's situation is complex and classified,” Uncle Zashi added solemnly. “But what we can share is that the HPSC is forcing him to take this test.”

“I believe he's prepared,” Uncle Shou added with a sigh. “But even so, if it were up to me, he wouldn't be getting his license yet.” He glanced over at Izuku with a pained expression. “He should be enjoying the childhood that was stolen from him. But instead, those corrupt bastards are trying to steal what's left of it.”

Ms. Joke nodded solemnly, her expression shining with sympathy for Izuku and anger towards the HPSC. “I see. It must be tough for him.”

“He's tougher than he looks,” Uncle Zashi said proudly, though he also couldn't hide his anger at the HPSC.

“Well, I can see that. He totally kicked my students' butts,” Ms. Joke laughed. “I'll have to up my training if they're being taken down so easily by a child over half their age.”

“Well, that child was trained personally by Eraserhead,” Hitoshi pointed out with a smirk.

“Good point, MiniRaser. Good point,” Ms. Joke chuckled and shook her head. Then, a moment later, her gaze landed back on Uncle Shou. “So, Eraser. How about we have that date?”

“No,” Uncle Shou replied curtly, which only made Ms. Joke laugh more.

“Oh, come on, Eraser. You can't deny our love forever,” she teased.

“What love? There was never anything between us,” Uncle Shou retorted, and the banter continued like that.

Hitoshi watched the situation with confusion and a little worry, turning to Uncle Zashi, who simply shook his head with a chuckle.

“They're like that, don't worry,” Uncle Zashi waved him off. “Joke knows Shou and I are married. She only keeps this up because she knows it annoys Shou.” He raised his voice a little so Uncle Shou would hear him. “And yet he takes the bait. Every. Single. Time.”

Uncle Shou shot Uncle Zashi a glare over Ms. Joke's shoulder, clearly annoyed by the comment but choosing to let it slide for now. Ms. Joke just laughed harder at his reaction, and their banter started once more.

“How long until the second phase of the exam?” Hitoshi asked, ignoring the two supposed adults and turning back to Uncle Zashi.

Uncle Zashi checked his watch and gave Hitoshi a reassuring smile. “Not long now, Toshi. They usually give the participants a short break between phases to catch their breath and regroup. I’d say we have about fifteen to twenty minutes.”

Hitoshi nodded, glancing back at the arena where Izuku was waiting alone in a corner, clearly still in Terminator mode.

“We'll need to pull him back once this is over,” Hitoshi said worriedly. “What's the tally on what’s worked so far?”

Uncle Zashi pulled out a small notebook from his coat and opened it.

“The most successful technique so far has been using fruits to coax him back into ‘Child Mode.’ Blackberries are still his favorites,” he explained, flipping a page. “Plushies work as long as they aren't hero-themed. Lullabies are great as he responds very well to sound stimuli.” Another flip. “Touch isn't bad, but sometimes his stinger still reacts reflexively, so we need to be careful.”

“Huh, you know a lot more about this than me,” Hitoshi muttered. “I've only seen him like this a few times. Can you send me a copy of those notes later? I want to be able to help him too.”

“I'm sure you must have noticed a few things that Shouta and I missed, Toshi,” Hizashi said as he patted him on the shoulder and passed him the notebook. “So we can compare notes later. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Hitoshi smiled as he flipped through the pages. “Oh, here's something! Izuku mentioned once that the doctor would keep him in a cold room wearing only his underwear as punishment. You should be careful with the AC.”

It probably never came up because Izuku only talks about his past when something triggers him and he wants to explain. Uncle Shou and Zashi both hate the cold, so their house is usually quite warm, but Hitoshi remembers when Izuku visited him and the AC was on.

Hitoshi leaned back in his chair, the notebook now resting on his lap as he recalled that particular incident. It had been a sweltering summer day. His mom had gone out for groceries, and Mama was still at work, leaving Hitoshi and Izuku to entertain themselves at home.

The air conditioner had been blasting to combat the heat, and neither of them had initially paid much attention to it. They were engrossed in watching old hero videos, with Hitoshi narrating the details to Izuku, who diligently scribbled notes in his notebook. But then, Hitoshi noticed something alarming—tears were streaming down Izuku's cheeks, and he was trembling uncontrollably. What unnerved Hitoshi the most was that Izuku didn’t even notice what was happening. He kept talking and moving, though he seemed to be on auto-pilot.

It was only when Hitoshi gently asked what was wrong that Izuku snapped out of his dissociation. That was when Izuku told Hitoshi about the cold room. Hitoshi immediately grabbed the remote and shut off the AC. Heat be damned.

Like most of Izuku's PTSD episodes, if Hitoshi hadn't been vigilant, he might not have even noticed it happening. After that day, Hitoshi made it a habit to keep a blanket nearby in case Izuku felt chilly, and he never touched the air conditioner when they were together.

“That’s definitely something to keep in mind. Thank you, Toshi,” Uncle Zashi said with a warm smile, taking the notebook from Hitoshi and jotting down the details.

Hitoshi nodded, returning the smile. He appreciated how Uncle Zashi listened and took note of everything that could help Izuku.

Uncle Zashi checked the clock once more before turning back to Hitoshi. “We still have about ten minutes before the exam resumes. Why don't you go grab a snack?”

Hitoshi considered the suggestion, his stomach rumbling in agreement. It had been a hectic morning, and he had skipped breakfast due to nerves about Izuku's exam.

“Yeah, I could use a snack. Thanks, Uncle Zashi,” he replied gratefully.

Uncle Zashi nodded in approval and pulled a few bills from his wallet. “There are a few vending machines around. Get anything you want,” he said with a teasing smirk. “But get food, please. You and Shou might think you can live on coffee alone, but I know better.”

Hitoshi chuckled, pocketing the money and giving Uncle Zashi a playful salute. “Yes, sir! Food it is!” He stood up from his seat, stretching his limbs briefly. 

The tension from earlier was slowly dissipating, replaced by a sense of anticipation. Hitoshi was relieved that Izuku had performed so well in the first phase of the exam. The next one would likely be harder, but Hitoshi was confident that Izuku would do just as well.

Hitoshi walked by the vending machines, considering his options for a moment. After a moment of contemplation, Hitoshi settled on a pack of sandwiches and grabbed a canned coffee.

What? Uncle Zashi never said he couldn’t grab a coffee. Just that he couldn’t only grab a coffee. Uncle Shou wasn’t the only one who could do Logical Ruses and explore loopholes.

With a satisfied smirk, Hitoshi inserted the bills from Uncle Zashi, retrieved his snacks and coffee, and made his way back toward their seating area. As he returned, he noticed the proctor was about to explain the next part of the exam. Settling into his seat, Hitoshi began to open his coffee, eager to enjoy the familiar pick-me-up.

However, just as Hitoshi was about to take a sip, the floor rumbled beneath them, accompanied by several controlled explosions around the entire arena. For a fleeting moment, Hitoshi's heart skipped a beat as he wondered if there was an actual villain attack happening. But within seconds, he saw actors dressed as disaster victims entering the arena, scattering and taking cover amidst simulated disaster areas.

“They do this every year?” Hitoshi asked, turning to Uncle Shou for confirmation.

“Twice a year, actually,” Ms. Joke chimed in with a grin. “The exam happens in both spring and fall.”

“Good to know where all the tax money goes,” Hitoshi muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with mild sarcasm.

“You don’t even pay taxes, Toshi.” Uncle Zashi chuckled softly beside him.

“The feeling counts,” Hitoshi replied, eyes focused on the arena.

After a few minutes of preparation, he saw all the hero hopefuls entering the disaster areas.

“The second test starts now!” The proctor announced.

Chapter Text

Izuku’s mind shifted into high gear as the second phase of the exam commenced. The proctor's voice cut through the chaos, and the victims' acted screams for help echoed through the disaster zones, signaling the start of the rescue operation.

Without wasting a second, Izuku scanned the surroundings, quickly taking in the scale of the simulated destruction. People were already forming groups and assigning tasks—some coordinating efforts to clear debris while others moved to provide immediate medical attention.

Just as Izuku was about to take off, he heard a voice calling out to him. "Hey, Bat-boy! Your wings work, right? Go for the farthest areas and get the victims out."

With a brief nod, Izuku took off towards the outskirts of the exam area. He scanned the area, feeling for any heat signatures and mapping the surroundings with sound pulses. It didn't take long for him to locate an area where several victims were hidden among the rubble.

Izuku landed softly near a collapsed building and immediately asked the shadows around for the victims' locations. As he got a pretty clear map of the area, including the wounds of the victims, Izuku was approached by a little girl with tears in her eyes.

“Help! My brother is hurt!” she cried, pointing towards the building.

Izuku quickly glanced at her shadow and saw that she wasn't hurt. 

Low priority , he thought as he turned to the building and sent his shadows to stabilize the fragile structure. He began lifting and throwing the rubble away, creating a path to the victims.

The first one he found was a young boy, very similar to the girl who was weeping nearby. He carried the boy with his shadows and gently laid him down on the floor before continuing to clear the debris. The boy was "unconscious," and as his sister tried to run to him, Izuku quickly stopped her.

“Don't touch him. You'll aggravate the wounds,” he said firmly, encircling the boy with a shadow barrier like police tape to prevent anyone from getting too close. He continued pulling people from the rubble—some conscious, some not.

As he deposited the girl last—since she was the least injured—he prepared to move on to the next disaster area. However, as he took off, he overheard the rescued victims discussing his performance.

“He's effective, no doubt. I barely felt anything as he brought me here,” one of them remarked, watching Izuku soar away. “But he should smile more. His expression is unnerving.”

“He's too focused, almost robotic. Minus points for that,” another added.

If Izuku had been in a different mindset, the comments might have affected him more. But in his current Terminator Mode, he brushed off the remarks and flew towards the next disaster zone, pushing the comments to the back of his mind.

As he neared the next area, a loud explosion reverberated through the arena. The proctor’s voice cut through the chaos: “Villains have breached the area. Evacuate the victims.”

Men in uniforms, wielding strange guns, began pouring into the field. The examinees quickly split into two groups: one engaged the villains while the other focused on evacuating the victims. Spotting several heat signatures heading towards the medical area, Izuku decided to intervene.

He dove towards a group of villains, aiming to block their path. As he approached, the villains opened fire. Instinctively, Izuku raised his wings to shield himself, only to realize that the projectiles were not ordinary bullets but cement guns. The cement splattered over his wings, quickly hardening and weighing him down.

Izuku clicked his tongue in frustration. The cement had rendered his wings immobile, and removing it would take precious time. Grounded and temporarily incapacitated, he knew he needed a new strategy.

He began fending off the villains using his shadows and stinger, but there were too many of them. Just as they were about to shoot him again, someone tackled Izuku to the ground, pulling him out of the line of fire. He glanced up and recognized a familiar heat signature.

“Hey, Bats,” the lizard guy from the first round greeted, dragging Izuku behind a rock for cover. “Looks like you could use a hand.”

“There are ten left,” Izuku said curtly, his eyes scanning the chaotic battlefield. “I’ve already taken down five, but I can’t use my wings.”

The lizard guy glanced at Izuku’s cement-covered wings and winced. “Oof, that’s rough,” he muttered, peeking from their cover to assess the situation. “Looks like none of them have tracking quirks. Can you turn the lights off again?”

That was a solid plan. With a nod, Izuku focused his energy and began extending his shadows around the villains.

“Witching hour,” he muttered, enveloping the area in a dense, dark dome that plunged the villains into complete darkness.

“I’ll take left, you go right,” the lizard guy said, before leaping into the fray.

Izuku moved with purpose, his enhanced senses guiding him through the impenetrable darkness. He relied on heat signatures and sounds to navigate. His shadows extended and coiled, silently disabling villains one by one.

Meanwhile, the lizard guy was equally efficient, his claws flashing in the dark as he sliced through their guns, disarming them with practiced ease. The villains, bewildered and blind, were quickly overpowered.

With the darkness providing them the perfect cover, Izuku and the lizard guy worked in tandem. Their synchronized movements turned the tide of the battle, the confusion and disorientation among the villains making their defeat almost inevitable. As the last of the villains were subdued, the darkness began to lift.

The proctor’s voice cut through the arena, “The last of the civilians has been rescued. The second phase is now complete. Please return to your designated areas. Results will be sent out in a few minutes.”

Izuku exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, the tension draining from his shoulders. He turned to the lizard guy, who gave him a nod of acknowledgment.

“Not bad, Bats,” the lizard guy said with a smirk before disappearing into the crowd.

It was done, now he could only hope he had done enough.

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .- -- .- --.. .. -. --.

Shouta was known for his patience and logical approach—qualities that had not only defined his career but had also been crucial in the high-stakes environment of underground hero work. In a world where split-second decisions could mean life or death, recklessness, and impulsivity were dangerous liabilities.

As a teacher, he needed even more patience to deal with his teenage students. The sheer amount of chaos those kids could unleash in a split second when Shouta wasn't looking was staggering. The drama and mess they often got themselves into were astounding, and they had a knack for thinking their teachers were oblivious to their antics. They weren’t nearly as sneaky as they thought.

After years of juggling both roles, no one could ever say Shouta wasn't patient. His patience was nearly endless. 

Keyword: Nearly.

“He scored 85,” Shouta said, his eyes narrowing at the HPSC agent who was stubbornly trying to fail Izuku despite his score clearly surpassing the passing mark by a long margin.

The agent shifted uneasily under Shouta’s intense stare. Shouta felt a pang of sympathy for the man, knowing he was just following orders. However, those orders threatened to keep Izuku from his family, and Shouta was not about to let that happen.

“Well... You see... There are other factors we need to consider. His score was—”

“85 out of 100. That’s higher than 90% of the examinees,” Shouta interrupted. The only issues that affected Izuku's score were his perceived lack of warmth and his 'robotic' demeanor.

Shouta found this reasoning absurd. Not all heroes were warm and smiley. Endeavor had been the number two hero for over a decade and was as comforting as a porcupine pillow.

“He’s too robotic,” the agent argued, trying to justify his stance. “He scared many of the people he was supposed to be rescuing. A hero needs to be comforting and—”

“He rescued everyone swiftly and without causing any further harm,” Shouta cut in sharply. “Not all heroes need to be comforting. Maybe he wants to be an Underground hero. And even if he doesn’t, that’s irrelevant. This is a provisional hero license test, not a provisional All Might license test.”

The agent seemed to falter under Shouta’s intense scrutiny, his resolve visibly weakening. He glanced at the papers in his hands, desperately searching for a counter-argument that might appease Shouta.

“Look, I understand where you’re coming from,” the agent said, his voice losing its previous firmness. “But the point is that he didn’t meet the—”

“Meet the what?” Shouta snapped, his patience rapidly evaporating. “The criteria for being a hero? The kid passed with flying colors. The HPSC doesn’t get to change the rules for a single examinee to fit their agenda. Don’t you dare think I don’t know what you’re trying to pull here. I’m more than willing to take this fight to the HPSC, and I’m sure Nedzu won’t let it slide either.”

While Shouta’s name carried little weight with the HPSC, Nedzu was another matter entirely. They knew better than to cross him lightly.

“I... I-I.” The agent floundered, momentarily at a loss for words. After a few seconds of stumbling, he muttered, “Give me a minute,” and hurriedly dialed a number on his phone as he left the room.

Shouta sighed deeply as he waited. It was no surprise the HPSC was playing dirty; they had never intended to let Izuku pass easily. But Shouta was prepared to battle them if necessary. If he had to turn villain to ensure his son’s safety and happiness, he was ready.

Twenty minutes later, the agent returned with Mera in tow. Mera looked visibly tired and somewhat apologetic as he approached Shouta.

“Look, Eraserhead, I’m sorry, but there’s not much we can do. The kid—” Mera began.

“No, there’s plenty you can do,” Shouta interrupted. “This isn’t following proper procedure. Izuku earned more than a passing grade. If you’re suddenly raising your standards to say he failed, then you’ll have to fail everyone who scored lower than him.”

The implication was clear: failing everyone with a lower score would create a massive scandal, given the number of legacy children and influential figures who had scored less than Izuku. Such a move would be politically disastrous.

Mera regarded Shouta, who remained with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised in challenge. After a weary sigh, Mera conceded.

“I can do something,” he said finally. “But he’ll need to take one more test.”

“That's good enough,” Shouta conceded. “What’s the test?”

He had a sinking feeling that he wouldn’t like the answer.

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .- -- .- --.. .. -. --.

“They want him to fight who?” Hizashi shrieked once Shouta told him about the HPSC’s compromise.

In the corner of the room, Izuku was sitting on the floor, munching on an apple as Hitoshi gently attempted to coax him out of his Terminator mode with no success.

“They want him to fight Endeavor,” Shouta said with a weary sigh, rubbing his temples in frustration.

“Endeavor? They want my baby to fight the Number 2 hero!?” Hizashi frantically asked. “The Flame Hero: Endeavor? The hero known for his reckless disregard for collateral damage and his brutal tactics against villains? That Endeavor!?”

Shouta nodded grimly. “Yes, that Endeavor. It’s not the test I would’ve chosen, but it's the only concession they were willing to make.”

“That’s insane! How is Izuku supposed to win against Endeavor of all people? That man doesn’t know the meaning of holding back?” Hizashi’s voice was laced with panic and disbelief.

“That’s the point,” Izuku's calm voice interrupted, cutting through the chaos. “They want me to fail. They’re aware of my regeneration quirk, so whatever damage Endeavor inflicts won’t be permanent.”

“No! Absolutely not! Baby, you can’t!” Hizashi pleaded, dropping to his knees in front of Izuku as he finished his apple. “There has to be another way to handle this. Endeavor wouldn’t hold back even if he knew your actual age!”

“There's no other way,” Shouta said, his voice heavy with resignation. “We can fight them on this. We’ll probably win. But the process will be long, and until then, they will take Izuku.”

“Those bastards. I’m going to give them a piece of my mind!” Hizashi seethed, standing up with clenched fists. But before he could storm off, Izuku reached out and grasped the hem of his pants.

“I’ll do it,” Izuku said with a firm nod.

Hizashi hated how empty those words made him feel. There wasn't a single emotion fitting through their soul link. Izuku was still too deep in Terminator mode. At least, Hizashi thought, it meant Izuku wasn’t frightened, though it felt like he should be.

“Baby, please. He’s too dangerous,” Hizashi implored softly.

“Trust me?” Izuku asked, managing a forced smile. Hizashi knew there was no real warmth in the gesture, yet it was touching that even in this state, Izuku was able to try to comfort his parents.

It felt like he was fighting against himself. Hizashi wanted nothing more than to take his son and run away. He wanted to destroy every single person who was trying to take him away. But he couldn't.

“Alright,” Hizashi finally agreed, his voice trembling despite his efforts to stay composed. “But promise me you’ll be careful, okay? No unnecessary risks. If things get too intense, just surrender. We'll find another way.”

“I promise,” Izuku said softly, extending a small hand to gently brush away the tears welling in Hizashi’s eyes. “Don’t cry, Papa. I’ll be fine.” Despite the flatness of his voice, Hizashi couldn't help but feel a pang of affection. Even in this unfeeling state, Izuku still managed to be unbelievably sweet.

“Alright. I’ll hold off on the tears until this is over,” Hizashi said, managing a smile through his anguish.

“You can cry from happiness once Zuzu kicks Endeavor’s butt,” Hitoshi chimed in as he stepped closer, attempting to lighten the mood.

“That sounds like a great plan,” Shouta agreed, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Despite how nervous everyone was feeling about Izuku fighting Endeavor, the mood improved slightly. Hizashi had to hope that Izuku would be able to win this. His son was amazing, and he almost beat Shouta when they met. He could do this. Hizashi had to believe in his son. 

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .- -- .- --.. .. -. --.

The tension in the arena was almost tangible as Izuku faced off against Endeavor. His heart was steady, but his mind was a whirlwind of data and strategies. He had meticulously studied the Flame Hero, thanks to the doctor’s insistence on keeping his knowledge of top heroes current.

Izuku scrutinized Endeavor closely. While Endeavor's civilian name was Todoroki Enji, he was known far and wide for his formidable Quirk, Hellflame. This Quirk was one of the most destructive and feared abilities in hero society, with the primary drawback being heatstroke from prolonged use—a critical vulnerability that Izuku had factored into his strategy.

Facing Endeavor was something Izuku had anticipated. Raised by the doctor to be an assassin, Izuku had been trained to face and potentially eliminate heroes. The fact that killing wasn't on the agenda for this test was almost a relief, though he didn't have the capacity for relief in his current state.

Endeavor regarded Izuku with a bored expression, clearly underestimating him. This was advantageous. Being underestimated was a tactic Izuku knew how to exploit.

Without any warning, a gunshot rang out, signaling the start of the battle. Izuku was prepared; real life had no countdowns. He took to the air immediately, narrowly evading a scorching jet of flames that Endeavor launched at him.

Izuku remained on the defensive from the moment the fight began. Endeavor’s flames were a relentless barrage of searing heat, yet Izuku navigated through them with impressive agility. He flew in circles around Endeavor, dodging each attack and baiting the hero into using stronger attacks.

Endeavor, growing visibly impatient, intensified his assault. He unleashed wave after wave of intense fire, and each blast expertly aimed to corner Izuku and force a mistake. Despite the pressure, Izuku remained calm and calculated, dodging the flames with fluid, precise movements. This was a battle of endurance, and Izuku never lost one of those.

With each attack, the heat in the arena increased. It was affecting Izuku, but it was worse for Endeavor who was right at the center of the heat. Endeavor’s frustration grew with each failed attempt to hit Izuku. His attacks became even fiercer and his flames hotter, and Izuku's graceful movements, like he was dancing around and mocking Endeavor, were only making him angrier.

As the minutes wore on, the toll of the battle began to show on Endeavor. The heatstroke that had once seemed a theoretical concern was now visibly affecting him. His once-masterful control over the flames faltered. His breaths became heavy and labored, and his movements started to slow. The intensity of his flames diminished, flickering and sputtering as he struggled to maintain his strength.

As Endeavor’s control over his flames faltered, Izuku saw his chance. With the hero visibly weakened, he darted in for an attack. Despite his exhaustion, Endeavor instinctively unleashed another jet of flames towards Izuku. Anticipating the move, Izuku spread his wings, using them to shield himself from the scorching blast.

The heat seared through the protective layers of his wings, causing intense pain. Izuku grimaced, feeling the burn of what he suspected were second-degree injuries. For a fleeting moment, the memory of the doctor’s cruel smile and the searing branding iron flashed in his mind. The only reason he lacked a scar was his regenerative ability.

Shaking off the painful memory, Izuku refocused. He maneuvered gracefully and landed in front of Endeavor. As Endeavor prepared to launch another attack, Izuku moved with unmatched speed. In a swift, precise motion, he drove his stinger into Endeavor’s abdomen. The venom, a potent paralytic agent, was injected into Endeavor’s system.

Endeavor’s eyes widened in shock as the venom began to take hold. His strength quickly drained away, his once-powerful flames sputtering to an end. The paralysis spread rapidly through his muscles, rendering him immobile as he collapsed to the ground.

Izuku stood over him, his stance confident and controlled, despite his emotionless exterior. The fight was decisively over.

A profound silence enveloped the arena, so complete it felt as if time had stopped. After several tense seconds, the proctor’s voice echoed through the stillness, tinged with disbelief.

“E-Endeavor can’t continue. The examinee Yamazawa Izuku is the winner…”

The announcement hung in the air, punctuating the shock of the audience and the undeniable victory of Izuku.

Izuku had won against the number 2 hero fair and square. Not even the HPSC would be able to distort that. 

Chapter Text

Entry 1  

I don’t know exactly what to put here, but Inui-san said starting a diary is a good way to keep track of my emotions.

Well, I guess I should start from the beginning.

My name is Yamazawa Izuku, formerly known as S-15. Aka used to call me Midori. It was a bit on the nose, I guess, but we didn’t have much else to go off of. In the lab, we were nothing but tools, numbers, experiments. Any showing of emotions was met with punishment. And punishment meant... Shig -

I'm a clone. The original is long gone, as well as my... Can I call them siblings? It feels right.

I didn’t even meet most of them. S-1 to 5 died before we were even old enough to understand what we were. S-6 to 11 were discarded when they failed to show quirks, or their quirks were too weak. We were 4 years old—or I guess 2, since we age faster.

S-12 and S-13 survived a little longer than the others. But in the end, they couldn’t handle the training. Each of us had some critical flaw. Maybe the cloning process wasn’t perfect? (The doctor would have punished me for even thinking something like that.)

S-12 had a weak heart. His quirks were strong but all mental. He pushed himself too hard during a harsh training session, and his heart... just gave out. The doctor didn’t care.

S-13... he was different. Strong, but unstable. His quirks were powerful, but he couldn’t control them properly. In the end, he... self-destructed. I was there when it happened. I remember the way the lab shook, the way his heat signature just disappeared. 

For the last two years in the lab, it was just me and Aka. The doctor gave us our codenames, but Aka was the one who suggested to claim those as ours. H e gave us something more than just numbers. It made us feel... closer. Like we were more than just experiments. We promised each other we’d escape together. But...

Aka didn’t make it.

Maybe I should stop here for today.

... .- -..

Entry 2

How should I start this? “Dear diary” feels… dumb.

I suppose I should just continue from where I left off.

I mentioned that each of us had a flaw, a “defect.” Aka was no different. He couldn’t feel pain.

It sounds like a strange gift, doesn’t it? But in the lab, it was a curse. Without pain, Aka couldn’t gauge how much he was pushing himself, how much damage he was taking. He kept pushing beyond his limits, trying to prove something, trying to keep up.

Trying to keep up with me.

I should have noticed. He was my brother. We promised we’d escape together. But in the end, I killed him with my own hands. He told me not to blame myself, that he was proud of me. But I know the truth. I failed him. I couldn’t protect him. I couldn’t keep our promise. It should have been me.

He died in my arms. I cried. The doctor punished me for crying, but I couldn’t care less. 

Sometimes I wonder how he looked at that moment. Was he trying to smile? Or was he simply trying to stay brave?

Right. I said each one of us had a defect. That’s mine. I’m blind.

It’s not the worst thing that could have happened. I’ve adapted. I have my shadows, my wings, and my other quirks. I guess I’m really lucky. The doctor seemed to believe I was his one success.

I wish I wasn’t.

That’s enough for today.

... .- -..

Entry 3

“Hey, it’s me again.” No, this doesn’t feel right.

“Hey, Izuku here and this is my diary.” No, this feels even dumber...

I’ll just pick up where I left off.

After Aka died, I was alone. It was just me and the doctor. In a way, he started being a little more... careful? It’s not quite the right word, but it’s close.

I guess it was because Mikumo had died. If I failed as well, he’d need to find another quirkless person to clone. Not to mention he had already invested five years into this project. Sometimes he seemed scared, muttering something about how “Master expected results.”

It seems like the "Master" also had expectations for me. I’ve only met him once, and he was so much scarier than the doctor. I can’t put into words how I felt when he was talking to me.

He spoke softly, almost tenderly, yet I felt locked in place. I knew I was in front of an Apex Predator. He put a hand on my head, and I felt something being pushed inside me. It felt strange, but I didn’t dare ask what he was doing. He told the doctor that his “gift” would help my training. Then he looked at me— I knew he was looking at me despite that weird mask on his face— and told me he expected great things from me.

It was only two days later that I realized what he’d done to me.

I was born with 5 quirks: Bat, Goat, Snake, Scorpion, and Shadow. He gave me the sixth. Regeneration.

It was slow at first. It could heal almost any wound, but it needed... “training.”

The doctor found a creative solution to that.

...

I don’t want to think about him.  

That’s enough for today.

... .- -..

Entry 4

“Hey readers. Let's rock with another entry!”

...

That sounds ridiculous. I'm not emulating Papa again.

Whatever, I'll just continue.

Where did I stop last time?

…

I'm not touching that.

…

So, after I received the “gift” from the Master, the doctor intensified my training. Physically and mentally, I was constantly pushed to my limits, with my new quirk ensuring that I wouldn’t die.

Sometimes, I wished I could.

Over time, I became numb. It was as if I couldn’t feel anything at all. My days blended into one another. The pain, exhaustion, and fear turned into a relentless background noise, overshadowed by the ceaseless demands of the doctor. He said I was becoming a “perfect successor,” but all I felt was emptiness. I was just a tool to him, and the fact that my quirk allowed me to endure more only made the training more grueling.

The worst part came when he started training me to kill. To kill heroes.

Each session was a cold, calculated lesson in cruelty. The doctor didn’t want me to just be strong; he wanted me to be efficient and ruthless. I was taught to exploit weaknesses, to observe and analyze my targets, to use every trick and quirk at my disposal to ensure their defeat.

I didn’t want to. I always admired heroes. I wanted to be one, even though I knew it wasn’t possible. But defying the doctor meant facing disposal as well.

I couldn’t die. I promised Aka I would live.

Keeping that promise was getting harder each day.

The training was brutal, but I kept pushing forward. Failure wasn’t an option. I learned to analyze, to use Bat and Snake together to compensate for my lack of eyesight. I studied all kinds of venoms, from paralytics to lethal ones. I trained my balance and used the shadows.

When I felt lost, I’d often think, “What would Aka do?”

It’s kind of silly. Aka was many things, but I have to admit, he wasn’t the sharpest.

Aka was much more of a "punch first, ask questions later" type.

It’s strange to think about him now. In a way, he was the exact opposite of what the doctor wanted me to be. He was impulsive, driven by raw emotion and instinct. The doctor would frequently get annoyed at him when he was alive.

He was everything I wanted to be.

If Aka were still here, he’d probably tell me to stop trying to be him and just be Midori.

I wonder if he would be proud if he could see me now.

I miss you, Aka.

That’s enough for today.

... .- -..

Entry 5

“The logical thing to do is to get straight to the point.”

That sounds like something Dad would say. Maybe I should stop trying to emulate him and just be myself.

If only I knew who I am.

I guess I’ll just dive in.

Things did get better eventually, but before that, they had to get worse.

I remember that night as if it were yesterday. I’d thought it would be just another quiet evening. But then the alarms blared, and I heard the chaos of heroes storming the facility. For a fleeting moment, I dared to hope. Was this my chance to escape?

But that hope was quickly crushed. The doctor’s voice cut through the chaos, commanding me to fight.

So, I fought. Because I was a good boy, and good boys obeyed.

Eraserhead was formidable. No matter how many quirks I had, I was no match for his skill and experience. He defeated me, restrained me. That’s when I heard the doctor’s voice:

“You know the consequences.”

Panic set in. If I’d been thinking clearly, I might have realized that this was just another attempt by the doctor to torment me one last time, as he was captured that night too.

But I wasn’t thinking straight. I did the only thing that came to mind, hoping it might make the doctor forgive me. Eraserhead had lowered his guard, trying to calm me down.

I seized the opportunity and struck, just as the doctor had taught me. I injected a lethal venom into his bloodstream.

Even though he was clearly in pain, Eraserhead didn’t get angry. He simply reassured me, telling me that no one would hurt me and promising that I was safe now.

His friend made me sleep with her quirk, and I woke up in a hospital.

The rest is history.

... .- -..

Entry 6

I give up. Introductions are the worst. I'll just dive in.

...

I wonder. Is it normal to be adopted by the hero you almost killed?

I really don’t get it. Shouta forgave me so easily. Why did he forgive me? Why did he care about a mere clone like me?

If he read this, he would probably scold me for talking about myself like that. He’d say my past didn’t make me any less human than anyone else.

I’m trying to believe this. I’m really trying.

My... my family is helping me. I have a family now.

I have Dad, Papa, Toshi-Nii, and Nezzy-Nii. Not to mention Granny Chiyo, and so many aunties and uncles at UA. It’s strange, going from having no one to being part of such a large family. It can be overwhelming at times.

Things were rocky with Zashi at first. I thought he hated me for hurting Dad. He struggled with letting me close. I felt like I was ruining the family, so I ran away.

But Zashi came after me. He apologized for not giving me a chance. He asked me to come back. He asked me if he could be my family.

It was hard to believe him at first. I didn’t understand why he would want me back after everything. But I saw his shadow, and the shadows don’t lie. He made the effort to accept me.

It didn’t take long for Zashi to become Papa, and Shouta to become Dad.

It’s still strange, adjusting to this new life. I’m learning to navigate relationships and emotions, things I never thought I’d experience. But I’m trying.

Maybe one day, I’ll understand why I’ve been given this second chance. For now, I’m just grateful to be here, surrounded by people who care.

That’s enough for today.

... .- -..

Entry 7

What is a soul? Do clones have souls?

I have four soulmarks.

Dad and Papa are my soulparents; they share the same soulmark. Nezzy-Nii and Toshi-Nii are my soulbrothers. There’s one last soulmate I haven’t met yet.

It’s strange to think about. I’ve spent so much of my life as just a tool, a weapon. The doctor didn’t believe in soulmates. He thought they were a weakness. I never even knew I had soulmarks until I was adopted.

I think the doctor might have known, but he never told me. It feels like something he would do—another way to make me believe I was alone.

Dad and Papa say that my soulmarks are just another proof that I’m human, but I can’t help but wonder.

Are these soulmarks really meant to be mine? I’m Mikumo’s clone. What if I’ve stolen his soulmates?

I know I’m not responsible for Mikumo’s death, but it still feels wrong that I got to live and not him. Sometimes I wonder what kind of person he was.

I don’t know if I believe in an afterlife, but if there is one, I hope you’re happy there, Mikumo.

I’ll try to live for you too.

... .- -..

Entry 8

I think I’ve talked enough about my past. It’s time to focus on the present.

The HPSC is corrupt. I’ve known that for a long time. Innocence was never something I had. The doctor made sure of that — it was one of the first things he took from me.

Since All Might informed them about me, the HPSC has been trying to control me. I can understand why. I’m exactly the type of soldier they’re looking for. But they won’t get their hands on me. Dad and Papa promised they’d protect me, and I trust them.

Still, the HPSC doesn’t play fair. During the Provisional License Exam today, it was clear they were setting me up for failure from the beginning.

I wouldn’t say I was perfect in the exam. I know my “Terminator Mode” probably spooked the civilians I was supposed to be rescuing. Even Dad agrees, though he didn’t use those exact words.

I wasn’t perfect, but I know I was more than good enough to pass. Yet, they tried to fail me. I wonder what would have happened if Nezzy-Nii hadn’t been in my corner. Even the HPSC knows better than to mess with Nedzu.

In the end, I fought Endeavor. His flames hurt a lot, but I won. Dad and Papa rushed me to Recovery Girl afterward, despite me insisting I was fine. By the time we got there, the burns were already healed, so there wasn’t much she could do other than a routine check-up.

I was still in Terminator Mode, so I didn’t react much. It made things easier for Granny Chiyo, I suppose. I’m usually terrified of needles. She gave me a once-over and assured me everything was fine. She also gave me a blueberry lollipop before sending us on our way home. It was good, but I like the apple ones better.

We headed home after that. Dad, Papa, and Toshi-Nii all tried to coax me back from Terminator Mode. It’s strange how even the simplest things become so hard when I’m like this.

It took a few hours, but eventually, I started feeling again. They’re always so patient with me. I wish I could find a way to show them just how grateful I am.

Papa baked an apple pie, which was really nice. We all cuddled on the couch and watched a movie together. Toshi-Nii stayed over, and Nezzy-Nii stopped by later to congratulate me and hand over my provisional license. Apparently, the HPSC tried to deny it one more time, but Nezzy-Nii quickly put a stop to that.

I have the license right here. I can feel it in my hands. It’s just a small piece of plastic, but it’s hard to believe how important it is. I keep thinking about how different things might have been if I had failed…

But I didn’t fail. Dad always says it’s not logical to dwell on “what ifs,” so I won’t.

I have my license now, and the HPSC can’t touch me.

I wonder what comes next. For the first time, I’m looking forward to the future.

Papa is calling me for lunch, so I need to go.

I guess I’ll write more another day.

Chapter Text

Watching Izuku fight with everything he had and come out victorious ignited a fire in Hitoshi that he hadn’t felt before. Seeing his brother earn his provisional license made Hitoshi want to push harder, train more, and earn his spot in Uncle Shouta’s hero class at U.A. High. With only three months left until the entrance exam, he knew that now was the time to give it his all. 

Hitoshi could’ve taken the recommendation exam; both Uncle Shouta and Uncle Zashi had offered him the chance. But he wanted to prove himself without leaning on his Uncles. He was determined to go through U.A.'s entrance exam, which was notoriously biased towards physical quirk, and show everyone that a mental quirk could be just as powerful and just as worthy. 

In the weeks that followed, Hitoshi dedicated himself to non-stop training. His focus was on strengthening his body while keeping his flexibility and agility. He knew his quirk was powerful, but he also knew that just his quirk would be enough to pass the entrance exam, and certainly not to become a good hero. As Uncle Shouta had relentlessly hammered into his head, no good hero was a one-trick pony. 

Physically, Hitoshi had a lean, wiry build, similar to Uncle Shouta's. He was built for speed, quick reflexes, and precision rather than raw strength. But that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to throw a mean punch; he’d been training hard to make sure that when he struck, he could make it count.

The three months flew by in a blur, and before Hitoshi knew it, the day of the U.A. entrance exam had arrived. He’d poured everything he had into his preparation, pushing himself to the brink and beyond. But of course, his insomnia had picked the worst possible night to act up.

Hitoshi lay in bed, wide awake, locked in a stare-down with his bedside clock as the minutes dragged on. He’d been watching it tick for the last forty-eight—no, forty-nine minutes now. It felt like so much longer, but the clock didn’t lie.

To make matters worse, Hitoshi’s insomnia wasn’t content to just keep him awake. It always brought intrusive thoughts along for the ride. He’d trained hard, putting in endless hours to strengthen his body, hone his mind, and refine his quirk. But… what if it wasn’t enough? What if, after all that, he still failed? How could he face his moms? His uncles? How could he look his little brother in the eye—the little brother who idolized him—if he failed tomorrow?

Lost in his spiraling thoughts, Hitoshi almost missed the soft creak of his closet door opening. A small figure emerged, his bat wings wrapped snugly around him like a blanket.

Since Uncle Shouta and Uncle Zashi had to be at U.A. early for the exams, and Uncle Shouta was still on patrol tonight, Izuku was spending the night at Hitoshi’s place. They’d decided he would go to U.A. with Hitoshi in the morning, and while Hitoshi took the entrance exam, Izuku would be with his dads in the viewing room.

When Izuku slept over, he always preferred to sleep in the closet, where it was dark and quiet enough for him to roost comfortably on the clothes rod. Hitoshi was used to it by now, but the first time it happened, he’d nearly had a heart attack when he opened his closet the next morning and found a giant bat hanging inside.

“Toshi-nii?” Izuku’s sleepy voice cut through Hitoshi’s thoughts as he shuffled over to the bed, wings wrapped around him like a cozy blanket. “Your heart’s really loud.”

Hitoshi blinked, suddenly realizing how fast his heart was racing. He hadn’t even noticed until Izuku pointed it out.

“Sorry, Zuzu. Did I wake you up?” Hitoshi asked softly, trying to slow his breathing.

Izuku shook his head. “Nu uh. Nightmare.”

Hitoshi’s heart softened. He knew that when Izuku had nightmares, it was always a gamble whether he’d be okay with touch or not. Some nights he needed comfort; other nights, it only made things worse.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hitoshi asked gently, keeping his tone steady. Izuku hesitated, his wings tightening around him a little. After a few seconds, he shook his head. “That's fine, Zuzu. Space, proximity, or touch?’

Izuku considered for a moment, then murmured, “Touch?”

With a gentle smile, Hitoshi lifted his blanket, making space for Izuku to crawl in beside him. Izuku snuggled close, one of his wings draping over Hitoshi like a soft, warm cover. Hitoshi was careful to avoid touching Izuku’s back, knowing it was a trigger for his brother. Instead, he placed a hand on Izuku’s head and began to slowly, soothingly run his fingers through the fluffy green curls.

The quiet moment felt as calming for Hitoshi as it seemed to be for Izuku. The steady rhythm of combing through his little brother’s hair grounded him, easing his own anxious thoughts. He could feel Izuku relaxing beside him, the tension of the nightmare fading, and Hitoshi felt some of his own fears melt away, too.

“You’ll do great tomorrow, Toshi-nii,” Izuku murmured, his voice soft but sure.

Hitoshi let out a quiet sigh, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m that easy to read, huh?”

Izuku snuggled a little closer, his wing draping more securely around Hitoshi like a protective blanket. “I just know you too well,” he replied, his voice a gentle whisper in the dim room. “We’re soul brothers, after all.”

Hitoshi chuckled, a warmth blooming in his chest as he pressed a soft kiss to Izuku’s forehead. “Yeah, that we are.” He paused, letting his forehead rest against Izuku’s for a moment. “I know I shouldn’t be so nervous, but… my brain’s being silly again, I guess.”

“Yeah, I know.” Izuku nodded at him. “When my brain is being silly I like holding something soft so I remember I'm not there anymore.”

Hitoshi raised an eyebrow, his smirk shifting into something more playful. “That sounds nice. Maybe I should try it.” With a teasing grin, he wrapped his arms around Izuku, giving him a gentle squeeze while keeping his hands at his brother's sides, careful not to touch his back. “And lucky for me, I’ve got the perfect thing right here.”

“Toshi-nii?” Izuku asked softly, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

“Shh… Tonight, you’re my plushie,” Hitoshi replied, rubbing his cheek against Izuku’s soft hair.

Izuku giggled lightly, tightening his wing around Hitoshi and pulling him closer. “You’re silly, Toshi-nii. But okay, I can be your plushie.”

Hitoshi smiled, feeling a sense of peace wash over him. “Now, if only you had something that could make my insomnia disappear.”

“Oh, I can do that,” Izuku said eagerly. Before Hitoshi could ask how, he suddenly felt a sharp sting on his leg, followed by an overwhelming wave of sleepiness. “Nighty nighty, Toshi-nii,” Izuku said, his voice fading as Hitoshi succumbed to the drowsiness creeping in.

Well, he kind of asked for that. If it meant getting a good night’s sleep, he certainly didn’t mind that it was thanks to one of his little brother’s venoms. Though, maybe next time he could see about extracting some without getting stabbed in the leg.

-.-- --- ..- / .-.. --- ... - / - .... . / --. .- -- .

The tension in the viewing room was thicker than the sludge bomb Nemuri had concocted during her infamous pudding attempt for Izuku. To this day, Hizashi had no idea how she managed to create whatever that unidentifiable substance was; it certainly wasn’t pudding.

The source of the current tension had a name, a permanent smile, and a hairdo that was the most outrageous Hizashi had ever seen in his life. And coming from a guy whose own hair resembled a cockatoo, that was saying something. Or maybe Hizashi was just so fed up with the man that everything about him seemed worse. It was entirely possible.

Yagi Toshinori, though the public only knew him as All Might sat in the room, and Hizashi really wanted to meet him in the pit. It took every ounce of self-control not to DJ punch the man the moment he laid eyes on him. Honestly, if Izuku weren’t there, and if Nedzu hadn’t warned them weeks prior that the HPSC had practically forced him to hire All Might as the new Heroics teacher, Hizashi might have lost it.

As they waited for the buses to arrive at the examination sites for the entrance exam, the viewing room was eerily silent. Everyone was doing their best to ignore the palpable awkwardness—everyone except for Izuku, Shouta, Nedzu, and All Might, of course.

Nedzu seemed practically immune to the tension, while All Might was fixated on Izuku, like a hawk eyeing its prey. It was infuriating how the man couldn’t see past Izuku's heritage and the misguided assumptions that came with it. Shouta, on the other hand, was glaring daggers at All Might, his hand firmly resting on Izuku's shoulder. Izuku seemed blissfully unaware of the tension swirling around him, as he munched happily on a bowl of sliced apples.

But Hizashi knew that Izuku was far from unaware. His son was as observing, if not more, than even Shouta, and he aways knew when someone was starting at him.

As if to prove Hizashi’s point, after several minutes of awkward silence, Izuku abruptly got up from his chair, bowl in hand, and walked over to All Might.

“Want one?” he asked, giving the hero an innocent smile as he offered the bowl.

“Er…” Yagi blinked at the boy, caught off guard as he eyed the bowl suspiciously.

“You don't want?” Izuku asked, his expression falling as his lip began to tremble.

The atmosphere seemed to grow heavier as everyone turned to glare at All Might, who began sweating profusely under their collective stares. In a panic, he quickly grabbed a slice from the bowl and popped it into his mouth.

“Oh, thank you, young boy. Those are delicious,” Yagi said quickly, and Izuku’s smile returned with renewed vigor.

“I know! Nezzy-Nii always has the best apples!” Izuku exclaimed before skipping back to Shouta and settling down next to him.

“Nezzy-Nii?” Yagi asked in confusion, but everyone ignored his question.

Hizashi stifled a laugh with a cough as he caught sight of the smug grin plastered on his son's face. A quick glance at Nedzu showed the Rat-Bear-Dog thingy grinning from ear to ear, clearly enjoying Izuku's antics. It seemed Hizashi's boss had been quite the terrible influence on his son, and honestly, he couldn’t help be prouder.

After what had just happened, even Yagi found it difficult to maintain his glare at Izuku, and the tension in the room began to dissipate as the seconds ticked down. It was almost time for Hizashi’s favorite part of the exam.

“START!” Hizashi yelled into the microphone, his voice echoing in the room. As always, he watched as all the kids looked around in confusion. “WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? THERE'S NO COUNTDOWNS IN REAL LIFE. TIME'S TICKING! COME ON!”

Naturally, he couldn't resist sneaking a glance at the screen showing his nephew’s exam area. A proud smile tugged at his lips as he spotted Hitoshi, one of the few students who had been genuinely ready, taking off at a sprint the moment Hizashi gave the signal.

Unfortunately, support gear that didn’t directly affect one’s Quirk wasn’t allowed, so Hitoshi couldn’t bring his capture weapon. But that didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. Hizashi watched, thoroughly amused, as Hitoshi snatched up a broken stop sign from the street, wielding it like a makeshift axe, swinging it with surprising force and precision to decapitate the robots.

Meanwhile, Izuku was still calmly munching on his apples. Since his heat vision made screens unreadable, he wasn’t watching the exam, but Hizashi noticed him giving a tiny, knowing grin his way. There was no doubt in his mind that Izuku already sensed Hitoshi was doing well.

Hizashi reminded himself not to be biased, though. He and Shouta weren’t allowed to score Hitoshi due to their family connection, but they still needed to keep an eye on the other kids. With one last glance at the screen showing Hitoshi swinging his makeshift weapon, Hizashi refocused on the other exam sites.

Nedzu looked particularly pleased as he observed the students, his eyes sparkling with that usual air of mischief and curiosity. “It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” he mused, mostly to himself. “You can always tell who has the instinct to act and who hesitates. Those who jump in are often the ones with potential.”

Hizashi chuckled. “That’s why we throw ’em right into the chaos, right?” he quipped, his tone filled with excitement.

Izuku tilted his head thoughtfully, glancing up at Shouta. “Sink or swim?” he asked softly.

Shouta smirked, reaching over to ruffle Izuku’s hair. “That's right, Problem Bitten. Either they start swimming, or they sink.”

“This year’s batch seems to have some potential,” Nedzu commented, his gaze shifting to another set of screens. “Both in raw firepower…” He pointed to a monitor where a blond boy was ruthlessly blasting robots apart with fiery explosions, leaving smoldering wreckage in his wake. “…and in strategy.” He switched to another screen where a group of robots seemed to be shutting off unexpectedly. With a flick of a switch, the camera changed to thermal vision, revealing a girl slipping behind each bot and flipping their power switches to disable them without a sound.

“That's smart. Looks like Underground material to me,” Hizashi said, nudging Shouta with an eyebrow.

“She seems logical enough. But we’ll have to see if she gets in,” Shouta replied, batting Hizashi’s hand away.

“There's a very interesting duo on camera three,” Nemuri pointed out.

On the screen, a girl with pink skin was flinging acid at a group of robots, followed by a blond boy with a black stripe in his hair who touched the acid pool, sending an electric discharge through all the robots and earning them over thirty points in one go. Shouta calmly explained to Izuku what the feed was showing.

“How do you give them points in those cases, Nezzy-Nii?” Izuku asked, looking at Nedzu.

“Nezzy-Nii is Principal Nedzu!?” Yagi exclaimed, staring at the chimera as though he had grown a second head.

Nedzu laughed and glanced at Izuku, ignoring Yagi once more. “That, Izu-chan, is quite simple,” he replied smoothly. “Each of them will receive half of the total value of those robots, plus five rescue points apiece. A hero school should always reward teamwork and heroic behavior, after all.”

As they glanced back at the camera, they saw the duo high-five each other, only to pull their hands away in shock before looking at their arms.

“Oh, what an interesting turn of events,” Nemuri squealed in delight. “Looks like we have a new pair of soulmates. I wonder what kind of bond this is.”

“Sit down, Nemuri. You know it's illegal to meddle in people's bonds,” Shouta said quickly.

“Oh, don't be such a party pooper, Shou. You know I don't meddle. Doesn't mean I can't gossip,” Nemuri replied with a sweet grin.

“Let's not gossip about our future students' personal lives,” Shouta said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You're no fun, Shou,” Nemuri pouted, sitting back down. “But if you ask me, I bet it's familiar.”

“Oh, and how do you know that?” Hizashi, that traitor, egged her on instead of trying to stop.

“It's quite simple. My gaydar is going crazy over those two,” Nemuri replied with a mischievous grin.

Izuku blinked up at Shouta with wide, innocent eyes. “What’s a gaydar?”

Shouta’s eyes widened in panic for a split second before he shot a death glare at Hizashi and Nemuri, who both immediately started sweating under his murderous gaze.

Hizashi coughed nervously and checked the clock. “Well, you see, Zuzu… a gaydar is… uh…” He glanced at the control panel. “OH, LOOK AT THE TIME! Nedzu-san, isn’t it about time to activate the Zero-Pointers?”

Nedzu, looking far too amused at the entire interaction, gave them a tiny smirk before returning his attention to the screens. “You’re right, Hizashi-kun.” He flipped a few switches and pushed down the giant red button. “Zero-Pointers are now online. Let’s see how our promising applicants handle the surprise.”

The monitors came alive, showing massive, intimidating robots emerging from their holding bays and moving onto the exam sites. Several students froze in place, jaws dropping as the hulking machines loomed overhead.

Izuku tilted his head. “The floor’s rumbling. Are they really that big?”

“Oh, they’re quite large, Izu-chan,” Nedzu replied with a nod. “They’re meant to test a hero’s courage. They’re tough, but they’re not worth any points. The real question is… who’s going to face them anyway?”

“It rarely happens,” Shouta added. “Most kids just run away. They’re too big to handle, and they don’t reward any points.”

“Already happening.” Hizashi pointed to the screens, which showed dozens of kids fleeing as the massive robots advanced.

“Oh, but look! We have a brave one,” Nedzu said, indicating a camera that focused on a red-haired boy charging straight toward a Zero-Pointer with zero hesitation. “Kirishima Eijirou, Hardening Quirk. I wonder if he has a plan.”

To everyone’s surprise, Kirishima’s skin crackled with energy as he leaped into the air and punched the Zero-Pointer’s head, completely obliterating it in a single, powerful blow… along with his entire right arm.

“Holy shi—” Nemuri started, only to have Shouta slap a hand over her mouth before she could finish.

“That’s… that’s some serious firepower,” Hizashi said, eyes wide. “How does a Hardening Quirk do that?”

“Indeed. It’s rather peculiar,” Nedzu said, turning his gaze toward Yagi, whose eyes darted away as he began to sweat.

On the screen, Kirishima plummeted to the ground, clearly injured, and would have been in serious trouble if a blond, explosive boy hadn’t leapt up to catch him at the last moment.

Meanwhile, another camera showed Hitoshi helping a girl trapped under rubble, guiding her to safety without needing to engage with the Zero-Pointer directly.

“Times up,” Nedzu announced, his tone unreadable as he took a casual sip from a cup of tea that seemed to appear out of nowhere. He glanced at Yagi. “Oh, Yagi. I think we need to have a little chat.”

“Uh… you see, Principal, I, um—”

“Oh, perhaps I should ring up Gran Torino. It’s been quite some time since we last enjoyed a cup of tea together,” Nedzu mused. At those words, Yagi visibly paled, his entire frame trembling.

“Right. I’ll… let’s talk now,” Yagi finally relented, getting up and following Nedzu to another room, looking like a man on his way to the gallows.

Back on the monitors, the blond boy could be seen scolding Kirishima, though he had a hand pressed over his own chest. A faint glow could be seen beneath the collar of his shirt.

“Oh my, another one,” Nemuri said, though her usual teasing tone was missing as everyone was still reeling on the shock of what they just saw.

Shouta rubbed his temples. “He’s going to be in my class… I just know the rat will put him in my class.” He sighed, burying his face in his hands. Izuku patted his back comfortingly with one of his wings, though his gaze remained fixed on the door Nedzu and Yagi had just exited through.

“Well, this year’s going to be… interesting,” Hizashi said after a moment, watching as Recovery Girl reached the students, immediately tending to Kirishima’s injuries as he passed out from exhaustion.

Silence hung in the air for several more seconds, only to be broken by Izuku’s small voice as he looked up at Hizashi.

“But, Papa… you still didn’t answer,” he said, tilting his head. “What’s a gaydar?”

Chapter Text

The room hummed with silence as the hologram of Principal Nedzu disappeared, leaving only the faint static of the projector behind. Shinsou Hitoshi stood motionless, staring at the empty spot where the flickering image had been just moments before. His heart pounded in his chest as the words replayed in his mind on an endless loop.  

“Welcome, Shinsou Hitoshi. This is your Hero Academia!”

He had done it.  

Fifteen villain points. Thirty-eight rescue points.  

He had earned his place in the Hero Course.  

A disbelieving grin spread across his face, the weight of his accomplishment slowly crashing over him. But before the full impact could settle, a soft, teasing voice broke through his daze.  

“See? I told you you'd do great.”

Hitoshi turned toward his bed, where Izuku lay sprawled out on his stomach. The younger boy's green wings, too large for his small frame, rested across his back like a shimmering blanket. He looked utterly relaxed, his face glowing with pride as he watched Hitoshi.  

“Toshi-nii is the best,” Izuku said with a cheeky grin, his tone so warm it made Hitoshi’s chest ache.  

Hitoshi snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. How could I ever have doubted myself with you as my personal cheerleader?”  

Izuku’s grin widened, undeterred. “I knew you’d pass! You’re the coolest soul brother in the world!”  

“You’re way too confident in me, Zuzu,” Hitoshi replied, though his ears turned a faint shade of pink at the praise. Trying to divert the attention, he added dryly, “What’s next? Are you going to tell me you have a foresight quirk or something?”  

“Nope!” Izuku chirped, propping himself up on his elbows. “Shadows, Bat, Snake, Goat, Scorpion, and Regeneration!” He ticked the quirks off on his fingers proudly. “None of those let me see the future. I just know how great you are!”  

Hitoshi groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as his blush deepened. He glanced at the younger boy, trying to find a way to change the subject before he melted from all the attention.  

“So… do you know what you’re going to do once classes start?” he asked.  

Izuku’s eyes lit up with excitement, and he nodded enthusiastically. “Dad said I’ll be working with him! I’m registered as Eraserhead’s sidekick, so I’ll get to follow him around at school. Nezzy-nii wanted me to join the Hero Course too, but Dad said I’m too young.”  

“Well, genius or not, you’re still just eight,” Hitoshi teased with a smirk.  

Izuku puffed out his cheeks in a pout, his wings twitching in protest. “I’m physically sixteen!” he argued. “Technically, I’m older than you.”  

“Yeah, sure,” Hitoshi shot back, his smirk widening. “Doesn’t change the fact that your brain is eight. And you’re still tiny.”  

Izuku’s pout deepened, his arms crossing over his chest. “Not my fault the doctor made me small,” he grumbled. “He said it was so I could fly and that I could get a size quirk later when I became the ‘perfect successor for the boss.’ Whatever that means.”  

Hitoshi’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, an unpleasant chill running through him at the mention of the doctor. But the fact that Izuku could even talk about him now was proof of how far he’d come. Pride swelled in Hitoshi’s chest, and he quickly recovered, grinning again.  

“Looks like Uncle Shouta’s getting himself a cute little helper for class,” Hitoshi teased.  

“I’m not cute!” Izuku huffed, his wings flaring slightly in irritation.  

“Oh, you’re absolutely cute,” Hitoshi replied, his tone dripping with mock sincerity.  

Izuku glared at him, his cheeks already beginning to redden. “Take that back.”  

“Never.” Hitoshi leaned on his elbows, his smirk turning downright wicked. “You’re tiny, your wings are adorable, and I’ve personally seen you stuff your face with blackberries like a squirrel. Face it, Zuzu—you’re the definition of cute.”  

Izuku’s face flushed a brilliant shade of scarlet, his wings puffing up in indignation. “T-Take that back!” he stammered, his voice high-pitched with embarrassment.  

“Nope.” Hitoshi shrugged lazily, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “You’re adorable, and you know it.”  

With an angry squeak, Izuku launched himself off the bed, his wings flapping furiously as he tackled Hitoshi.  

But Hitoshi had been waiting for this.  

Just as Izuku pounced, Hitoshi reached out and deployed his secret weapon: a perfectly timed scratch behind Izuku’s ear.  

The effect was instantaneous.  

Izuku froze mid-attack, letting out a tiny, high-pitched squeak before collapsing into Hitoshi’s lap. His wings drooped as his entire body went limp, and a soft, involuntary purr escaped his lips.  

“See?” Hitoshi said smugly, continuing to scratch behind Izuku’s ear. “Adorable.”  

Izuku glared up at him weakly, his flushed face betraying his contentment. “...Not fair,” he muttered, voice barely audible over his little purrs.  

“Life’s not fair, Zuzu,” Hitoshi said with a grin. “But hey, you’re stuck with me, so you might as well accept how cute you are.”  

“I’ll get you for this,” Izuku grumbled, though his threat was completely undermined by the fact that he was currently purring under Hitoshi’s touch.  

Hitoshi just laughed as Izuku, grumbling all the while, wrapped his soft green wings around both of them like a cocoon.  

About an hour later, Uncle Zashi came to call them for a snack. When he opened the door, the sight that greeted him nearly melted his heart. Hitoshi and Izuku were curled up together on the floor, fast asleep, with Izuku’s soft green wings wrapped around both of them like a cozy blanket.  

Hizashi froze for a moment, his hand flying to his mouth as he suppressed a squeal of delight. Then, ever the opportunist, he reached for his phone.  

Click. Click. Click.

The quiet snaps of the camera were rapid and relentless, one photo quickly becoming a dozen. The angle, the lighting—he made sure to capture the adorableness from every possible perspective.  

Unfortunately for him, the sound of the camera woke Hitoshi, who blinked groggily before fixing his Uncle Zashi with a sharp glare.  

“This is definitely going into the family album,” Hizashi announced cheerfully, not even pretending to feel guilty.  

“Hey, delete those,” Hitoshi hissed, carefully trying to sit up.  

But the moment he moved, Izuku let out a soft, sleepy moan and burrowed deeper into Hitoshi’s side, his wings twitching slightly but remaining snug around them both.  

“Shh. Don’t wake your brother,” Hizashi said with a completely unrepentant grin, his phone still in hand as he snapped one more picture for good measure.  

Hitoshi looked torn, his hands clenching and unclenching as he debated whether lunging for the phone was worth the risk of waking Izuku. His brother’s insomnia was almost worse than Hitoshi’s with all the nightmares he had whenever he slept. The peaceful expression on his face was enough to make Hitoshi hesitate.  

“I made pie,” Hizashi added casually, clearly enjoying his nephew's dilemma. “I’ll leave it in the fridge for later.” With that, he turned and made his way to the door.  

“Wait, get back here, uncle! Uncle!” Hitoshi whisper-yelled, his voice low but urgent as Hizashi opened the door.  

Hizashi paused for a moment, glancing back with a mischievous wink. “Sweet dreams, Toshi,” he said before slipping out and closing the door behind him.  

Hitoshi let out a frustrated sigh, his head thudding back against the floor. “I’m never going to live this down,” he muttered, glancing at Izuku’s still-peaceful face.  

Despite himself, a small smile crept onto his lips as he adjusted the wings slightly, making sure Izuku was still warm and comfortable. “The things I do for you.” He sighed as he planted a small kiss on his brother’s forehead.

He snuggled back with Izuku and went back to his nap. He could only hope his Uncle would not show anyone those photos, but since when has Hitoshi been this lucky?

-.-- --- ..- / .-.. --- ... - / - .... . / --. .- -- .

UA High School. The best Hero school in Japan, and possibly the whole world. Studying here is a dream come true for just about anyone that wishes for a career even minimally hero adjacent.

That's true for almost anyone, but Shouto has always been the odd one out.

Maybe once upon a time he'd have been just as excited as all the kids that are here in this unholy time in the morning. But that was before his father completely tainted his opinion on heroes.

Now, being here was nothing more than another step for Shouto. He was here simply to get his hero license and then become the Number One Hero using just his Mother's ice. He was here to spite Endeavor's legacy. Nothing less, nothing more.

Which is why as he got to the class, he proceeded to ignore all his classmates who tried to make small talk to him. He wasn't here to make friends. Everyone in this class was just another obstacle in his path to be number one. 

Still, just because he didn’t engage didn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention. He took in every face, every voice, every movement, quietly analyzing his classmates one by one. This was a battlefield in the making, and he was already strategizing.

Who among them posed a threat?

Who was strong? Who was weak?

And more importantly…

How could he exploit their weaknesses if the time came?

He was almost disappointed by how unimpressive most of them were. But of course, it was too early to judge anyone. Shouto knew appearances could be deceiving, but his first impression of his classmates was that they weren't much.

He could already see groups forming, people gravitating to each other. A red haired boy was talking to a spiky blond who seemed a second away from blowing up, literally and metaphorically speaking. Another blonde boy with a black mark on his hair (was that natural or dye?) was talking to the girl with pink skin, and while Shouto wasn't paying attention, he perked up when he heard the word "soulmate" and looked to see both showing each other their arms, and Shouto saw their soulmark. A yellow, mouse-like creature, who seemed to be breakdancing.

Shouto's hand almost went to his back, but he managed to stop himself, and thankfully, no one seemed to be looking at him to notice his almost slip.

Of course, Shouto had a soulmark. Everyone had a least one or two, and while not as common, a few had four or more. The world record was, as far as Shouto could remember, a man from about 50 years ago who was confirmed to have 46 soulmates.

Shouto's soulmark was on his back. He could probably draw it with his eyes closed if he wanted to, but he hasn't met his soulmate yet. It's hard to tell if he ever will.

Some studies say that soulmates tend to gravitate to each other, and sooner or later they always meet. Others say that meeting your soulmate is nothing but a chance thing, and you might go your whole life without ever meeting them.

Shouto wasn't really sure how he felt about his soulmark. It was impossible to say what kind of bond it might be until it was fully formed, and a Soulbond only fully formed after you've met your soulmate.

Platonic bonds seemed more like a liability than anything else in this line of work. The ability to feel your soulmate's pain, in addition to a profession where you fought all the time? Shouto didn't understand why things worked like that, but at least there was a medicine developed to counter bond pains, so it wasn't a crippling problem.

A sibling bond sounded quite inconvenient. You developed an internal compass that always pointed in your soul sibling's direction. While Shouto could see the advantage in that, he couldn't help but frown at the thought of having someone always knowing exactly where he was all the time.

Then there was the parental soulbond. Something that while Shouto could admit to himself that he wished was his case, he also hoped it wasn't. Because his Father wouldn't be happy about it, and he wouldn't put it above Endeavor to actually go on a hunt to get rid of whoever would threaten to take his "masterpiece."

Finally, romantic bonds. The one bond that Shouto kept praying it wasn't his case. Because while Endeavor was mostly indifferent to soulbonds, for some reason he absolutely hated the idea of romantic bonds. Shouto knew if his soulmate was romantic, they would never be safe from Endeavor, and Shouto didn't want anyone else to suffer because of that man.

Despite all the research Shouto did on the soulmate phenomenon, the truth was that he never understood it. Most people described the feeling of meeting their soulmate as feeling like their soul was complete for the first time. Shouto could never imagine what it was like, but he knew from all the stories running around how painful, and potentially maddening, losing a soulmate is.

That was one of the reasons he was hesitant about meeting his. Endeavor wouldn't hesitate of getting rid of Shouto's soulmate if he thought they were getting in the way of his ambition, and Shouto didn't know if he could handle losing anyone else.

Still, the thought of having someone that felt like a part of himself. Someone who might understand him. Someone that Shouto could be his true self with... Shouto couldn't help but long for this kind of connection.

But that didn't matter. Shouto wouldn't go out of his way to look for his soulmate, but if they ever met, he would do everything in his power to make sure Endeavor wouldn't hurt them.

A sudden, high-pitched shriek jolted Shouto from his thoughts. He looked up to see a girl with pink cheeks and brown hair, one he hadn’t yet learned the name of, staring wide-eyed at the door. Her expression frozen in disbelief and shock, and it wasn’t long before Shouto’s gaze followed hers.

What he saw made his brain momentarily short-circuit.

There, sprawled across the door like some grotesque, oversized bug, was a giant yellow caterpillar—about the size of a human. Shouto blinked, rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, but no. It was real.

The class had gone deathly silent, and then—

“What. The. Fuck!” While a little crass, Shouto wholeheartedly agreed with the sentiment. What was happening here?

To everyone's further confusion, the caterpillar-thing spoke. “If you're here to make friends, you can pack your things and go home. This is the hero course.”

The creature raised a strange pouch to its mouth and began sucking it dry, almost like a vampire feeding off a blood bag, its oversized body wriggling as it continued to drain whatever it was.

Then, the unthinkable happened. The caterpillar began to shift, and a zipper opened up along its back. The thick yellow cocoon-like form fell away, revealing a tall man dressed in a black jumpsuit, a gray scarf draped around his neck.

Shouto blinked again, his mind catching up as the man’s green bat-like wings unfolded from his back, stretching briefly before folding neatly.

“It took over 8 seconds for any of you to notice me. That won't do,” the man said coolly, his voice carrying as he walked toward the front of the room with an air of authority. “Problem Bitten, get down.”

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, just as Shouto processed the command, the man’s wings flickered again—and they detached.

Shouto’s eyes widened in realization. The wings weren’t his. The wings belonged to a boy in a dark green jumpsuit, who was now slowly climbing off the man’s back. The boy wore a gray cloth over his eyes, his hair a dark shade of green. Shouto briefly wondered if it was as soft as it looked.

He hadn’t noticed the boy before. Not until the wings had moved. How hadn’t he noticed the boy was on the man’s back like that?

The silence in the room deepened as the explosive blond stiffened, his knuckles white against the desk, eyes fixed on the green-haired boy. Shouto caught a glimpse of his face, pale and focused, but just barely.

Then, the blond muttered something so softly that Shouto almost missed it. “Yamikumo?”

Shouto raised an eyebrow. Did the explosive blond know him? The boy’s whisper was so soft, it almost sounded like a prayer.

The man—who had to be the teacher—gave a knowing, if not slightly amused, look to the class. “As I'm sure you are wondering who is this ‘hobo’ waltzing into your classroom like owned the place, so I'll get the introductions out of the way.” He paused, clearly unfazed by the chaos his entrance had caused. “My name is Aizawa Shouta, your homeroom teacher, and this,” the newly dubbed Aizawa gestured toward the green-haired boy, “is Yamikumo.”

There was a moment of silence, followed by a quiet intake of breath from the blond. Shouto’s curiosity was piqued, but Aizawa didn’t give them time to process.

“He’s my sidekick and will be helping me with the class.” Aizawa’s tone was matter-of-fact, but it left no room for argument.

At that, several hands shot up, but Aizawa ignored them all, his focus unbroken.

“Now, grab those and get to the PE field.” Aizawa Sensei’s voice cut through the silence, his tone cold and commanding. Without any further explanation, he pulled a pile of PE uniforms from somewhere and dumped them on his desk. “Yes, I know it’s sudden. No, I don’t care. You have 15 minutes. Anyone late will get detention.”

With that, he turned and walked out of the room, with Yamikumo following him closely behind. Just before disappearing through the door, Yamikumo paused and looked over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the class (could he even see over that cloth covering his eyes?) His voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge to it.

“The threat was serious, so I’d get moving if I were you,” then he too left, leaving the classroom in an eerie stillness. 

The class stood frozen for a moment, the weight of the strange encounter settling over them. The sound of a single chair scraping the floor broke the silence.

A boy with purple, gravity-defying hair stood up, completely unfazed by what had just happened. He walked to the teacher’s desk with a lazy, almost bored expression, casually grabbed a PE uniform, and strolled out of the room without a second thought.

This opened the gates of anarchy. The entire class erupted into action. Chairs screeched back as students scrambled to their feet, pushing and shoving in their rush to grab uniforms from the desk and run after their teacher. 

For a brief moment, Shouto found himself almost amused at how quickly the class had descended into disorder. It wasn’t the start he’d expected, but then again, nothing about this place had been what he expected.

Oh well, better get moving. He didn’t want to get detention on the first day. Though if it meant spending more time away from home, maybe it was worth considering…

Chapter Text

“So, was there an actual reason for that, or did you just feel like messing with them?” Izuku asked as he stepped onto the PE field alongside Shouta, his wings twitching slightly in amusement.

“Everything I do has a logical reason,” Shouta replied, his voice as dry and unimpressed as ever.

Izuku hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head with a knowing smirk. “Everything?” he echoed. “Even the pink sweatpants?”

Shouta didn't miss a beat. “They're comfortable. Do I need another reason?” Then, fixing Izuku with a pointed look, he added, “And you've been spending too much time with Hitoshi, you sassy Bitten.”

Izuku just grinned, entirely unrepentant. They reached the center of the field and stopped, the morning air cool against their skin as they waited.

“How long do you think they’ll take?” Izuku asked, glancing back toward the building.

Shouta exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temple as though already bracing for disappointment. “Longer than they should.”

“I think a few might surprise you,” Izuku mused. “Hitoshi will definitely be here on time. Maybe Ingenium Junior too—he seems like the type to take punctuality as seriously as breathing. He'll need to learn to relax a little.” Izuku chuckled. “Not that I’m one to talk.”

Shouta's gaze softened just a fraction. “You're getting better, Izuku,” he said quietly. “It’s been a while since you last slipped into Terminator Mode.”

“I get it…” Izuku sighed, a small frown tugging at his lips. “But it feels like I’ve stagnated. I’m not sure what to do next. Maybe it’s time to step out of my comfort zone.”

Despite all the progress Izuku had made since being adopted, Shouta couldn’t help but notice the frustration in his son’s voice. The truth was, Izuku still hadn’t quite figured out how to interact with people outside their family. Shouta could understand why.

Izuku was physically 16, but mentally, he was still 8. The doctor’s cloning had never accounted for how it would affect Izuku’s ability to live a normal life. The whole purpose had been to create a perfect weapon, not a well-adjusted child.

It was something Izuku had come to terms with a long time ago. He’d accepted that he might never have a “normal” life. It wasn’t easy, and Shouta knew that deep down, Izuku still struggled with the truth. Most days, Izuku tried to act his age, to fit the 16-year-old mold his body had forced on him. But Hizashi and Hitoshi had been helping him embrace his real age. Sometimes, it felt like an impossible task, but they were doing their best to guide him.

Shouta didn’t believe a hero school was meant to be a place for making friends. The students were there to learn how to be heroes, and that was supposed to be their priority. But even he knew that friendships had their place. No one could survive the hero world alone. He didn’t know where he’d be without the friends he’d made—people like Hizashi and old comrades who had watched his back over the years.

All Might had tried to do everything by himself, and even with all his power, it had cost him dearly. The man was a shell of his former glory. Missing a lung and stomach, and has practically no one left in his corner as he drove almost all his friends away. The few friends he still has, he keeps them at arms length.

So, while Shouta was focused on making sure his students took their training seriously, he couldn’t help but hope that Izuku would find some solid friends among them. But most of all, people who would see things the way his family does.

It doesn’t matter how or why Izuku was created. He was a human being, and he deserved to be treated as such. He really hoped that if -when- his friends eventually found out about his past, they would see that fact as well.

“Ah!” Izuku's voice snapped Shouta from his thoughts. “One of the students recognized me.”

Shouta blinked, his focus shifting immediately to his son. “What do you mean, recognized you?”

“Before you even introduced me to the class, someone muttered ‘Yamikumo,’” Izuku explained, his brows furrowing in confusion. “I don’t know how they could have known my hero name. I never—” He paused for a moment, and a look of realization crossed his face. “Dad, I think he knew Mikumo.”

Shouta's stomach dropped as the same realization hit him. Izuku’s hero name was the way Izuku found to pay homage to Akatani Mikumo after he learned he dreamed of being a hero too.

The only person outside of their family and UA knew about Izuku’s whole story, and was Inko. But Shouta had serious doubts that Inko had shared anything with anyone. Not after how she reacted when she learned the only survivor of the doctor’s experiments was her dead son’s clone. 

The pain was so much that she couldn’t even bring herself to be in the life of the last leftover of her kid. Shouta doubted she ever told anyone about Izuku.

If someone knew Mikumo, seeing Izuku would be like seeing a ghost.

“Did you see who it was?” Shouta asked, his voice more urgent now as he crouched down to meet Izuku’s face.

Izuku tilted his head, his mind piecing things together. “It came from the fifth roll, second seat.” He paused, trying to recall the details. “I think that’s seat seventeen.”

“Seat seventeen.” Shouta immediately pulled out the seating chart, his eyes scanning the names. “Bakugou Katsuki.”

The name didn’t ring any bells, but it was something Shouta could look into later. Right now, he was more concerned with what might happen if the kid really knew Mikumo—if he had somehow connected Izuku to that past. He hoped no confrontation would arise, but if the kid really knew something, they’d have to tell him at least part of the story. It wouldn’t do to let anyone think Izuku was Mikumo. They were two completely different people, and Shouta would make sure that fact stayed clear.

Izuku looked up at Shouta, his expression thoughtful. “If he knew Mikumo, I think he deserves to know the truth, Dad.” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant, but there was a weight in his words.

Shouta's gaze softened, his hand gently resting on Izuku's shoulder. “We still don't know for sure,” he replied, trying to offer reassurance. “Don’t worry, Izuku. Let me deal with it. Everything will be fine.”

Izuku nodded and they stayed in comfortable silence for a few seconds, until Izuku angled his head towards the entrance to the field.

“The first ones are coming,” Izuku said, his voice steady as he glanced toward the school building. “But looks like most decided to wait and come together, so they’re still in the locker room.”

Shouta nodded and got back up, putting his teacher face back on as he looked at who would be the first ones to arrive.

As expected, Hitoshi was the first to arrive. He knew better than to test Shouta’s patience when it came to punctuality and hero training. Right behind him was Todoroki Shouto, his expression unreadable as his gaze flickered between Izuku and Shouta. After a few moments of observation, he gave a small nod to himself, as if reaching some kind of internal conclusion.

Shouta wasn’t paid enough to care about whatever was going through the boy’s head, so he let it be.

Much to his irritation, the rest of the class emerged from the building in one large group, cutting it dangerously close to the deadline.

Shouta checked the time as they lined up. “Fourteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds,” he announced, his voice sharp. His eyes scanned the group, unimpressed. “Do you have any idea how much damage a villain can cause in that time?” He let the words settle, his tone leaving no room for argument. “From now on, I expect everyone to be ready in five minutes. No exceptions.”

A cacophany of "Yes, Sensei!" echoed through the field, though some voices sounded more confident than others. Shouta scanned the group with a sharp gaze, noting who looked properly chastised and who seemed indifferent. He’d break them of that soon enough.

He let the silence settle for a few moments before speaking again. "We’ll be starting with a Quirk Assessment Test. I assume most of you did the standard physical tests back in middle school?" A few nods and murmurs of agreement followed. "Well, this will be nothing like that. You're here to be heroes, not civilians. That means we push beyond what’s comfortable."

Shouta reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device. "Bakugou, you scored first in the entrance exam. How far could you throw a softball in middle school?"

Bakugou still had his eyes fixed on Izuku, like he was looking for something, but once Shouta called, he snapped his attention back to him.

"Sixty-seven meters." Bakugou answered, crossing his arms.

Shouta ignored his gruffy attitude and simple threw him a softball. "Throw it with your quirk this time. Anything goes, as long as you stay in the circle."

A slow, sharp grin spread across Bakugou’s face as he stepped into the marked throwing circle. His palm sparked with crackling energy.

“In that case, I’d cover my ears,” Bakugou warned, a sharp grin spreading across his face. He stepped into the circle, planted his feet, and wound up his throw. Just as he released the ball, an explosion burst from his palm, sending it rocketing through the air. “DIE!”

The force of the blast sent a gust of wind through the field, ruffling hair and clothes. Some students flinched, others gawked. Shouta, unimpressed, barely glanced up as he checked the device in his hand. A moment later, he turned the screen toward the class.  

“705.2 meters.”

Silence. Then, a ripple of murmurs broke out, some students whispering excitedly, others looking nervous. Before the chatter could grow, Shouta’s sharp gaze cut through the noise, silencing them instantly.  

“Before you can even think about becoming heroes, you need to understand your limits. Then, you’ll learn how to surpass them.” He pocketed the device and let his gaze sweep over the class. “In this test, you'll be finding were your limits are, so I expect each one of you to take it seriously.” His expression darkened slightly. “If I even suspect any of you aren’t taking this seriously, you’ll be expelled before you can finish saying the word ‘hero.’”  

A heavy silence settled over the group. No one doubted he meant it. The tension in the air was palpable. Some students swallowed nervously, others straightened their postures, as if steeling themselves for the challenge ahead.

“Good,” Shouta finally said, his voice breaking the silence. “Now, let’s begin.”

.. -- / .-. ..- -. -. .. -. --. / --- ..- - / --- ..-. / .. -.. . .- ... / --- -. / .-- .... .- - / - --- / .--. ..- - / .... . .-. .

Hitoshi had never even considered slacking off. He knew better.

Uncle Shouta’s threat wasn’t just for show—every word was a promise. And if anyone assumed being family would earn him a free pass, they were in for a rude awakening. If anything, it meant Shouta would be even harsher on him.

But that was fine. Hitoshi had worked too hard to get here, clawing his way forward despite every obstacle thrown at him. He wasn’t about to waste this chance. So he poured every ounce of effort into each test, determined to prove he belonged.

As expected, his results were about average compared to the class. He consistently outperformed students whose quirks weren’t suited for the trials but lagged behind those with sheer physical advantages. That was fine. Uncle Shouta wasn’t just looking at raw numbers. Hitoshi had other ways to make an impression.

His first real opportunity came during the grip strength test. The student with six arms—Mezo Shoji, if he remembered right—wasn’t paying him much attention when Hitoshi activated his quirk. A simple “Mind if I give it a try?” was all it took. Shoji, under Hitoshi’s control, squeezed the device with all his might.

The result? A tie for first place.

Hitoshi waited for the backlash, half-expecting an argument, but to his surprise, Shoji just blinked at the score, then let out a good-natured chuckle. “Clever move,” he said, flexing his fingers as he got his bearings back. “Didn’t see that coming.”

Hitoshi hadn't expected that reaction, but it was a welcome one. Maybe things really would be different at U.A. after all.

Of course, a few classmates shot him dirty looks, but none of them dared to say anything outright. Not when their teacher hadn’t even batted an eye. Hitoshi just rolled his eyes and ignored it. He was used to people being wary of his quirk. Their problem, not his.

As he glanced around, his eyes landed on Izuku, who was inching away from the short kid with purple, ball-like hair—Mineta, if he remembered right. Something about the way Izuku stiffened, his movements just slightly off, set off warning bells in Hitoshi’s head.

Casually, he made his way over, keeping a few feet of space between them and pretending to watch as Ojiro tested his grip strength, his tail wrapping around the device.

“What happened?” he murmured under his breath, quiet enough that no one else— except maybe the girl with earphone jacks, but she was far away and distracted—would catch it. But he knew Izuku would hear him just fine.

Izuku didn’t turn or acknowledge him, but a moment later, shadows crept up Hitoshi’s arm, curling and twisting into faint, shifting letters.

"He's gross. His shadow keeps saying… things about the girls."

Hitoshi’s gaze flickered toward Mineta, who was openly leering at Yaoyorozu as she unzipped her jacket to create— was that an entire hydraulic press ? Okay, now she was just showing off.

“What kind of things?” Hitoshi asked, keeping his voice even.

The shadows hesitated before shifting again.

“Gross things. I don’t want to repeat.” Still, a few stray letters curled into his skin—a "W" and an "S," but nothing more. “ I’ll tell Dad later, but he hasn’t said or done anything out loud yet, so there’s nothing he can do.”

Hitoshi exhaled through his nose, nodding slightly. Izuku was right—Uncle Shouta couldn’t expel someone just because their shadow was a creep. But Hitoshi had no doubts about Izuku’s quirk. The Shadows never lied. If Mineta’s shadow was that disgusting, it was only a matter of time before the kid himself stepped out of line.

And when he did? Hitoshi would not be letting that slide.

He had two amazing moms who raised him to respect women, and he’d be damned if he let some perverted little gremlin get away with anything in his class.

“I'll keep an eye on him. You can go watch someone else,” Hitoshi murmured.

Izuku hesitated for a brief moment, then nodded. The shadows on Hitoshi’s arm slithered away, retreating back toward Izuku like ink being absorbed into paper.

“Thanks,” Izuku whispered, his voice barely above the wind, before slipping away toward where Todoroki was wrapping up his grip test.

Hitoshi’s eyes flicked toward Todoroki, noting the way the other boy seemed subtly—but intensely—focused on Izuku. At least that made sense. Izuku had kicked his father’s ass a few months ago. Hitoshi could only hope there were no hard feelings. Todoroki didn’t seem bitter, but with how unreadable the guy was, who could tell?

Then there was Bakugou .

Unlike Todoroki, Bakugou wasn’t even trying to hide how much he was staring at Izuku. His eyes were locked onto him, brows furrowed, his whole posture wound tight like he was seconds away from exploding—literally.

And the worst part? Hitoshi had no clue what his deal was.

What the hell was his problem? And why did he look so pissed?

Unfortunately, there was no way for him to figure it out right now—not without either starting a scene, revealing his ties to Izuku, or both. And this definitely wasn’t the time for either.

Hitoshi took a slow breath, forcing himself to refocus. Whatever was going on with Bakugou, he’d have to trust that Uncle Shouta was already aware of it. He always kept an eye on things, especially when it came to Izuku. If there was a problem, Uncle Shouta would handle it.

For now, there was nothing to do but focus on the test.

He clenched his fists, determination settling in his chest. He had worked too damn hard to get here—had spent years proving that his Quirk didn’t define who he was. And now, he had to prove that he belonged at U.A. Not just to his uncle, not just to his classmates, but to himself.

-. --- .-. - .... / .-- .. -. -.. / -... .-.. --- .-- ... / --. .... --- ... - ... / - --- / - .... . / ... -.- -.-- / .- -... --- ...- .

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the screen. Third place. He was behind Candycane and Ponytail. The rage in his chest built as his teeth ground together. This wasn't supposed to happen. 

You’re the best, Kacchan.

He was supposed to be number one. The best. The strongest.

He was supposed to be the one to prove that he was worth believing in—that he hadn’t ruined everything. That maybe, just maybe, he could redeem himself.

But here he was, behind everyone. Third place.

He needed to be the best. Not for himself, not for the glory, but because... because of Mikumo .

Yamikumo.

The thought hit him like a punch to the gut, and his eyes instinctively shifted to the side. There was something about the teacher’s sidekick that... that made his heart stutter in his chest. 

It’s just a coincidence, Katsuki told himself. But his gut twisted. He couldn’t shake it.

No. Mikumo was dead. It was a fact. Katsuki was there with Aunt Inko and the hag when the police broke the news. He was at the funeral. He saw the casket being cremated. The urn is still in Aunt Inko’s living room.

But witness protection existed. Maybe he wasn’t really dead, but…

Katsuki’s thoughts tangled, spiraling down into something that felt too familiar. 

Mikumo was quirkless, and this guy clearly has a quirk. 

Stress manifestations were a thing. You read about it all the time. After everything he went through, a forced quirk manifestation wasn’t unbelievable.

A sharp pain flashed in Katsuki’s chest. Mikumo wouldn't let Aunt Inko believe he was dead. He wouldn’t let his Mom suffer like that.

But what if he knew? What if she knew all this time? She had started to feel better not long ago, as if something had shifted. They could have told her Mikumo was alive. This would make her happy, even if she couldn’t see him anymore. Maybe she hadn’t told anyone because she knew it was his fault.

But if it was him, why didn’t Yamikumo recognize him?

Katsuki tried to push the thought away, but it stuck like a splinter in his mind. After everything you did? He clenched his fists, the feeling of guilt wrapping tighter around his chest. Who could blame him for wanting to forget you?

Katsuki didn’t hear a word Hobo-Sensei said after the test results. As the class made their way back to the locker room, he followed on auto-pilot. He went through the motions of getting dressed, barely registering the other students around him.

When he pulled his shirt on, his gaze automatically fell to his chest, where the mark—the damn mark—lay. 

A rabbit flying within an explosion, his and Mikumo’s soulmark. Soulbrothers . It was supposed to be bond even deeper than blood. But now…

The colors were gone. The explosion that used to be a vibrant red and orange was now faded and gray. The rabbit—once white with its fiery red eyes, full of life—was now a dull shade of gray, cracked with spider web-like lines.

Katsuki’s chest tightened as he clenched his fists around the shirt, trying to force it on over the mark, as if hiding it would somehow make everything go away. But it didn’t.

Katsuki stood there, feeling time stretch on, the weight of his thoughts consuming him. He wasn't sure how long he’d been lost in his own mind, but when he snapped back to reality, it was to a voice—one that was so familiar, yet layered with something older, something more mature.

“Are you okay, Bakugou?” Katsuki turned, and there he was. Yamikumo. Standing right in front of him.

His hair was a deep shade of green instead of the black Katsuki remembered, but dyeing hair was easy. His eyes were hidden by a blindfold, so Katsuki couldn’t tell if they shared the same piercing red hue as Mikumo’s. But the rest of his face... it was unmistakable. It was Mikumo’s face, just older.

The expression on Yamikumo’s face mirrored one that Katsuki remembered all too well. Concern, uncertainty, like Mikumo always had when he’d tried to help Katsuki, no matter how many times Katsuki blew him for it.

A flicker of a memory danced in front of his eyes—a small bridge, a rushing river below, Mikumo’s hand reaching out to him, his voice asking if he was okay. Katsuki, in a fit of frustration, swatting that hand away.

And now... now he was staring at a person who looked like a ghost. A ghost of everything he'd left behind, of all the things he’d ruined.

Katsuki felt something rise in his chest, something raw and uncontrollable. Without thinking, the words spilled out before he could stop them.

“Are you Mikumo?”

He could barely recognize his own voice—there was a desperation in it that he couldn't hide. The question hung between them, heavy and laden with so many unsaid things.

Chapter Text

Izuku wasn’t entirely sure why he approached Bakugou.

He could’ve pretended not to notice. Could’ve let the moment pass, gone on with his day, ignored the prickling sensation of someone watching him so intensely that it made his skin crawl. But even blind, Izuku could feel Bakugou’s gaze. He would’ve had to be even more blind not to notice the way it had followed him all day.

It was suffocating. A pressure he hadn’t felt since… since the doctor. Since being studied, dissected, treated like a thing.

He hated it.

But the reason he approached wasn’t because of the attention. It was because the attention wasn’t hostile. Unnerving, yes. But not malicious. And there was the shadow too—Bakugou’s shadow. It hadn’t whispered like most did, hadn’t even tried to speak much. All it did was repeat the same thing, soft and broken:

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Izuku had a sinking suspicion about what this was all about. He’d had it since Bakugou first looked at him like he’d seen a ghost. Since his shadow started apologizing like it had blood on its hands.

Izuku figured he owed him some kind of answer. After all… he was the one wearing Mikumo’s face.

Still, he hadn’t expected Bakugou to just ask like that. No hesitation. No buildup. Just a simple question.

“Are you Mikumo?”

Izuku flinched, just barely. It wasn’t the question that startled him—it was the rawness behind it. Like it had been clawing its way out of Bakugou’s throat all day.

He could feel the tension thick in the air, Bakugou’s breath uneven, and his gaze—Izuku could tell it was fixed on his face, his eyes hidden under the blindfold.

He didn’t want to drag this out. It was better to just rip off the band-aid.

Slowly, he reached up and untied the blindfold. The fabric slipped free from his head, fluttering in his hands. Then, he opened his eyes.

He heard it—a sharp inhale, like Bakugou had been punched in the gut.

But then... a breathless exhale. Disappointment. Maybe even grief.

Green. Clouded. Unseeing.

Izuku kept his voice soft, his tone careful.

“I'm not him,” he said, gently. “I'm sorry, Bakugou.”

And just like that, the silence swallowed them. For several seconds, until Bakugou seemed to find words once more.

“You look just like him…” He said, so low that Izuku wouldn't have heard if he didn't have such a good hearing. Then, he added louder. “Why do you look like him? Why do you have the same nickname I gave him? Who are you, Yamikumo?”

Izuku clutched the blindfold in his right hand, the fabric trembling slightly under the tension in his fingers. His pulse thudded in his ears as he searched for the right words—truthful ones.

He didn’t want to lie. Not to someone who was clearly grieving.

Bakugou’s pain was etched into every inch of him—his rigid stance, the way his voice cracked like he didn’t know whether to run or scream. And Izuku… Izuku felt like a ghost in borrowed skin. A reflection of someone Bakugou had loved and lost.

He owed him the truth.

Izuku took a steadying breath.

“The name I was given after I was... rescued is Izuku,” he said quietly. “But at birth, I was assigned the designation S-15. I’m the only one who survived. We were all made using Mikumo as the base. I’m his clone.”

He paused, the words catching in his throat. Then he forced them out.

“I never met him. By the time I gained any awareness, he was already... I never saw him awake. When the heroes came—he was already gone. Had been, for a long time.”  Bakugou didn’t answer.

But his shadow did. Izuku could hear the soft sobs coming from the shadow.

“You’re too old,” Bakugou finally said, his voice brittle. “It’s been nine years. You look my age. Older, even—for a damn pipsqueak.”

Under normal circumstances, Izuku might’ve pouted at that.

Now, he just nodded solemnly.

“I age twice as fast as normal,” he explained. “The doctor didn’t want to wait.”

“So... you’re nine?” Bakugou asked, his voice almost hollow.

“Eight,” Izuku said, barely above a whisper. He looked down. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, huh?!” Bakugou snapped. His voice cracked like glass. “What the hell are you even apologizing for!?”

Izuku opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat.

Then—before either of them could say more—the door creaked open.

Shouta stepped in, cool and composed, but Izuku could feel the tension rolling off him. He acted like he just got there, but Izuku knew he had been standing just outside, listening and making sure Izuku would be fine. That was one of the reasons he loved his Dad so much.

“Yamikumo,” he said calmly, “I need you to fetch some papers I left with Nedzu.”

The tone wasn’t sharp, but it left no room for argument. It was his way of saying: That’s enough for now.

Izuku gave Bakugou one last glance—apologetic, unsure—before nodding silently and stepping out of the room.

.... --- .--. / --- -. --..-- / - --- / - .... . / .- -. --. ... - / - .-. .- .. -. -.-.--

Shouta waited.

He stood in the doorway a moment longer, listening as Izuku’s footsteps faded down the hall. Only when he was certain the boy was well out of earshot did he quietly shut the door behind him, the soft click of the latch echoing in the silence.

Bakugou hadn’t moved.

He stood there, fists clenched at his sides, head bowed like he was holding himself together with sheer willpower. Shouta could practically feel the fury and grief vibrating off him, like a bomb that hadn’t gone off yet but was seconds away.

“So you’re his dad,” Bakugou said. It wasn’t a question.

Shouta blinked. Either he was getting rusty, or Bakugou was more perceptive than he gave him credit for. And he knew for a fact he wasn't rusty.

“Yes,” he answered simply. No reason to lie. “I am.”

Silence hung thick in the air. Then—

CLANG.

Bakugou punched the nearest locker. The metal caved with a sharp dent, the echo rattling through the room.

“Looking at me with those big eyes. That damn smile. Being so fucking nice to everyone. Apologizing for something that wasn’t even his fault!! ” Bakugou’s voice rose with every word, shaking. “HE’S JUST LIKE MIKUMO!”

Shouta didn’t move. He just let the boy shout.

And when the silence returned, it came with something quieter. Fragile.

A soft sniffle.

Bakugou wiped at his face with the back of his arm, trying to pretend he wasn’t breaking down. “It’s all my fault, Sensei…”

Shouta’s eyes narrowed slightly, his chest tightening.

He knew that pain. He’d worn those words like a noose more times than he could count.

For a split second, a different face flashed in his mind—and old friend long gone—but he forced the memory down. This wasn’t about him.

“Kid,” he started, voice low but firm, “I can assure you it wasn't—”

“YES, IT WAS!” Bakugou snapped, cutting him off. “I’m not saying that to throw a pity party or fish for sympathy. It was my fault, Sensei!”

He yanked off his shirt and turned, revealing the mark on his chest.

A soulmark. Or what was left of one.

The rabbit perched on an explosion was barely visible now. Once vibrant and full of color, it had dulled to a ghostly gray, riddled with fractures like cracked porcelain.

Shouta’s breath caught.

He’d seen faded marks before—when someone’s soulmate died. But cracked soulmarks… those were rare. The kind that only happened when a bond shattered while both soulmates still lived. It was unbelievably rare. It meant something had broken inside the connection itself.

And it meant unbearable pain.

“We were together since diapers,” Bakugou said, his voice cracking. “The hag and Auntie Inko were best friends. My oldest memory is holding his hand. He was my brother , Sensei. Even fate agreed.”

He gave a bitter laugh, short and sharp.

“Nothing should’ve broken that. Nothing. But then…”

He raised his right hand and let a small explosion pop against his palm. Sparks fizzled out between his fingers.

“My quirk showed up. His didn’t.”

Shouta stayed quiet.

“At first, nothing changed,” Bakugou continued. “But then school started. People looked at me like I was a prodigy. And at him like… like he was broken. A mistake.”

He swallowed hard.

“They’d praise me and then turn to him like he was dragging me down. The teachers, the other kids, even the parents. They’d say, ‘What a shame. With a soulmate like that, he’s just holding you back.’”

He looked down, knuckles white.

“And like an idiot… I started believing it.” Bakugou’s voice had gone quiet. Hoarse. Raw. Like he’d been screaming underwater for years and only now breached the surface.

“It started slow,” he said, eyes locked on nothing, voice barely above a whisper. “I moved a seat away from him. When he asked to sit with me at lunch, I told him I was busy…”

He paused, breath hitching.

“Then one day I called him Deku. And everyone laughed. Everyone followed me.”

He let out a shaky exhale, somewhere between a scoff and a sob.

“The way they listened to me, how they looked at me like I mattered—it was… addicting. I started pushing him away. Harder. Meaner. And he just—he kept trying. Kept smiling. Kept walking home with me every day, like I hadn’t just spent the whole day making him miserable.”

His hands were trembling now, the heat of his quirk flickering just beneath the skin.

“Then… one day he tried to talk to me again. He looked so tired, but he still smiled. Still wanted to walk with me. And I—”  He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. “I snapped. I was so angry. Not even at him, just—at everything. I wanted him to go away, so I used my quirk.” He took a breath, but it shuddered in his lungs like it didn’t want to stay. “I burned a hole in his shirt. Right where our soulmark was.”

Shouta didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just let the silence stretch, giving Bakugou the space to bleed the truth out.

“And then I felt it,” Bakugou whispered. “Like something inside me cracked. My whole chest lit up with pain, like I’d been split in two. And he—he screamed, Sensei. He screamed like I’d torn something out of him. I’ve heard him scream before. But never like that…”

He rubbed at his face with his sleeve, trying to keep himself from falling apart completely.

“I tried to reach for him. I was so scared. I wanted to fix it. But he batted my hand away. He was terrified of me.” Bakugou finally looked up, eyes red and wet with grief.  “He ran. And for the first time... probably ever, I couldn’t feel him anymore.”

He looked down at the soulmark on his chest, the spiderweb cracks splintering the faded gray.

“The bond broke. I broke it.” He swallowed hard, jaw clenched. “The next day, Auntie Inko came by. Said Mikumo never made it home. We searched. I told the police everything I could. But without the bond—I couldn’t feel him. I couldn’t tell them if he was still alive, or where he’d gone.”

He shook his head.

“I was supposed to protect him. I promised him I would. And instead, I hurt him so badly that even fate gave up on us.” Bakugou’s voice cracked again—and this time, he didn’t bother hiding it.

“So yeah, Sensei.” His eyes stayed fixed on the dented locker like he wished it would collapse in on itself and take him with it. “It was my fault. I could’ve stopped it. I could’ve found him. I could’ve done something.”

His hands were shaking now, fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms.

“But I didn’t. I ruined everything so fucking much… and he paid the price.” He let out a bitter breath—something that wanted to be a laugh but died on the way out. Hollow. Lifeless.

“And the worst part?” His voice dropped, but the weight of it only grew. “No one even cared.” He swallowed thickly, the next words nearly choking him. “I tried therapy. I tried to be better. But every time I brought him up—every time I said his name—the second they heard he was quirkless, it was like he wasn’t even human! Hell, if he was a dog he would have gotten more sympathy. People acted like he was a fucking cockroach!”

His voice rose again, sharp and splintered.

“Some of them even told me I did the right thing! That cutting him off was smart! That he deserved it!” His jaw clenched so hard it trembled. “How fucked up is that, Sensei?”

There was a silence that followed—heavy, but not empty.

Shouta didn’t rush to fill it. He let it sit between them, let the weight of Bakugou’s grief settle. Because there was no easy response to that. No words that could neatly patch a wound like this.

But eventually, quietly, he spoke. 

“It wasn’t your fault.”  Bakugou flinched, clearly wanting to argue but not finding the words for it. He just stared at the locker like it had all the answers he’d never gotten. 

“It wasn’t,” Shouta repeated, voice steady. “It should never have been on you to save him. That was the adults’ job. The system’s job. And we failed him.”

He stepped closer, his voice low and even.

“You didn’t kill Mikumo. Bigotry did. Indifference did. We’re supposed to protect kids like him, and we didn’t. You were a child too.”

Bakugou’s shoulders twitched—but still, he didn’t look up.

“I know,” Shouta continued, “that hearing me say that doesn’t change how you feel. Guilt doesn’t vanish just because someone tells you it’s misplaced.”

He sighed, letting some of the steel in his voice soften.

“But I can get in touch with your mother. I’ll send her a list of good therapists—ones who don’t give a damn about quirks. Who’ll see you as a person , and not just a powerful quirk.”

He watched the hesitance flicker in Bakugou’s posture—the way his mouth pressed into a thin line, the way his breath caught in his throat.

“If you can’t do it for yourself yet… then do it for him. Because if Mikumo was really anything like Izuku, then I know he never gave up on you.” He let that hang for a moment before adding, quieter now: “So don’t give up on yourself either.”

Bakugou stayed silent for a long while. Long enough that Shouta started to think he wouldn’t answer. Then—

“I wanted to be the best,” Bakugou said. His voice was quiet, but sure. “To be the hero who would surpass All Might.” He finally lifted his head. His eyes were red, but burning. “I still want that. But not just to be the best.”

He took a breath, steadied himself.

“Mikumo always said I’d do it. That I’d be the greatest hero. Better than All Might. I want to prove he was right.” He met Shouta’s gaze, jaw set with quiet resolve. “Sign me up, Sensei. I’ll do it.”

This was the fire Shouta liked to see in his students. Not arrogance. Not bravado. But drive. Real, hard-earned resolve. The kind that came from pain, and still burned steady.

Bakugou had it in spades.

No—he wasn’t fine. Not by a long shot. That kind of guilt didn’t just fade, and those kinds of wounds didn’t heal overnight.

But Shouta saw something in his eyes that told him he would be okay.

Eventually.

And that was enough—for now.

“By the way, Sensei, what does the pipsqueak like?”

Chapter Text

The second day of class started with far less fanfare than the first.

Hitoshi was one of the first to arrive—not out of diligence, or anything like that, but because early mornings meant fewer people. He’d learned early in life that showing up before the crowds and feigning sleep was a foolproof method of dodging social interaction.

Even just thinking the word socialize made his skin crawl.

To his relief, U.A. seemed no different from his old schools in that regard. Not even Iida had tried to wake him up to berate him for sleeping in the classroom. He took it as a victory.

Still, as he lounged with his eyes half-closed, Hitoshi kept one eye on the front of the class—where Izuku was perched on the teacher’s desk, legs swinging idly.

Today, it looked like Izuku was having a “kid day.”

It was always nice to see Izuku acting his age more. He was fully absorbed in an old-school audio version of Simon Says. He was about fifty rounds in already and didn’t look even remotely close to losing.

Hitoshi had tried that same game once and barely managed ten colors before his brain melted. So yeah, he was mildly terrified. And from the looks of it, he wasn’t the only one. Five students were outright staring, and at least three had their jaws hanging open as Izuku tapped out more and more sequences without a single mistake.

The sequence kept growing. The game’s tone got faster. Izuku kept going.

And then, with just a minute or two left before the bell, the door creaked open, and Bakugou walked in.

Hitoshi blinked. Okay... that’s weird.

Yesterday, Bakugou had been one of the first students to arrive—rampaging in like a pissed-off rhinoceros with something to prove, but still one of the first. Seeing him show up this close to the bell felt off. Not wrong exactly… but definitely off.

Bakugou gave off a classic delinquent aura, sure, but Hitoshi could spot a closeted nerd from a mile away. And Bakugou? Definitely a nerd. A loud, rage-powered nerd who probably kept a box of All Might action figures under his bed because he was too cool for “toys.”

And then Bakugou did something even weirder.

Instead of heading to his seat like a normal person, he walked straight toward Izuku.

Marched, really.

...What the hell is happening today? Hitoshi thought, narrowing his eyes and shifting just enough to pretend he was still asleep while not missing a single second of what came next.

It didn’t look like Bakugou was about to start a fight, but if he tried anything, Hitoshi was ready to step in—consequences be damned.

“Oi, Pipsqueak.” Bakugou’s voice cut through the murmurs as he stopped in front of Izuku.

Izuku raised his head, his fingers still tapping out the sequence with steady precision. Hitoshi almost chuckled at the slight pout Izuku wore.

“I'm not that short.”

Hitoshi almost blurted out, Yeah, you are, but held himself back. He wanted to see how this played out.

“You're like, what, five-foot-nothing? That’s short.” Bakugou smirked.

Izuku stayed silent, because he knew he was actually 4'9" and wasn’t about to admit it.

“I'm still growing,” Izuku finally said, eyes back on the game.

“Yeah, sure.” Bakugou chuckled, then suddenly knelt down so he was eye-level with Izuku. “Look, nerd. Pay attention to what I’m about to say.”

The room seemed to shift; the atmosphere grew heavier, more serious. Izuku set his game aside and tilted his head, meeting Bakugou’s gaze.

“You’re not him,” Bakugou said. Quiet, but firm.

Izuku flinched, ever so slightly.

“You never were, and you’ll never be. If you were, I’d know.” Bakugou exhaled, voice dropping lower. “You are you . No one else. And there’s nothing wrong with that. He wouldn’t blame you for anything. Hell… he’d be happy for you.” His eyes flicked briefly toward the floor, then back to Izuku. “So if you really think you owe him anything… Don’t waste your life feeling guilty for crap that isn’t your fault. Be happy. That’s all he’d want. Trust me—I’d know.”

Bakugou’s words were vague enough for anyone not in the know to be confused, but clear enough for anyone who did to feel the weight behind the words. Hitoshi understood. And Izuku clearly did too.

Izuku looked down for a moment, then gave a small, shy nod.

Bakugou seemed satisfied with that. He stood up, reached into his bag, and pulled out a shiny red apple, holding it out to Izuku.

Izuku hesitated, then accepted it.

“Good,” Bakugou said, voice firmer now. “Don’t forget what I said. Because if I catch you apologizing for crap that’s not your fault again…” He grabbed Izuku in a gentle headlock and immediately started grinding his knuckles into the boy’s hair. Though Izuku could escape easily if he wanted to, he didn’t. “I’m not stopping until you cry uncle, got it!?”

“Nooo! I’ll stop apologizing! Stop, Kacchan!” Izuku giggled, squirming in his grip.

That caught Hitoshi off guard. Izuku was rarely comfortable with anyone that wasn’t family touching him. Yet, he had no problems with Bakugou. Hitoshi doubted Bakugou was Izuku’s last Soulmate, but looks like he would be seeing more of him anyway.

Hitoshi noticed a small shift in Bakugou's expression when Izuku called him that nickname, but he just huffed a laugh and let Izuku go.

“You better, nerd,” he muttered, ruffling Izuku’s hair with an unexpected gentleness before turning and walking back to his seat.

As he made his way through the classroom, he met the eyes of nearly everyone—some still slack-jawed in disbelief, others doing their best not to snort out their laughter.

“If anyone but the nerd calls me that,” Bakugou growled, glaring daggers at everyone. The display just a second ago made the action a lot less intimidating, “I’m gonna fu—” He glanced back at Izuku, who was already focused on his game again, tapping out the sequence with one hand, while the other held the apple to his mouth. 

Bakugou clenched his jaw and corrected himself with a reluctant, “—freaking kill you.”

That was the final straw for Hitoshi. He had to press his knuckles to his mouth to muffle the laugh that tried to escape.

Yesterday Bakugou had dropped no fewer than ten F-bombs on Kaminari for accidentally zapping him in the locker room. And now he was censoring himself—for Izuku. Not even Uncle Shouta’s threats of detention stopped him from cursing, and now he was doing it just because Izuku was in the room.

It wasn’t like Izuku hadn’t heard worse, but watching the class’s angry pomeranian develop a soft spot for the blind kid after one conversation? That was high-tier entertainment.

Bakugou dropped into his seat with a loud huff—right as the door creaked open and Uncle Shouta strolled in, as calm as ever.

Hitoshi flicked his eyes down to his phone. 

One full minute past the bell.

He raised an eyebrow.

You sneaky old bastard.

Uncle Shouta was never late. Ever. Which meant he’d been standing just outside the door, probably the entire time, listening in and waiting for Bakugou to finish whatever speech he’d needed to get off his chest.

And yet he still had the audacity to pretend he wasn’t a big softy under all that sarcasm, glares, and sleep deprivation.

Liar. An absolute lying liar who lies.

Not that Hitoshi would ever say that out loud.

He very much liked having a pulse.

.- -. --- - .... . .-. / --- -. . / ..-. .- .-.. .-.. ... / ...- .. -.-. - .. -- / - --- / .. --.. ..- -.- ..- ... / -.-. .... .- .-. --

If U.A.'s goal was to bore its students to death, they were absolutely nailing it.

Izuku could’ve gone with Dad for the day. He’d had the option. But nooo, he just had to stay with Class 1-A to see what a “normal school day” was like. He’d never experienced real school before, and he was so curious.

And now?

Now he was regretting every single one of his life choices.

This was so boring. Painfully boring. Mind-numbingly, soul-drainingly boring.

Not even Papa’s English class— the least boring one in his opinion, but Izuku was clearly biased— had done any good at shaking Izuku’s boredom.

Right now, Cementoss was droning on about some book Izuku had already analyzed with Nezzy-Nii like, four months ago. In depth. With a full breakdown of the themes, subtext, and sociopolitical metaphors. Twice.

And judging by the snores he was picking up from the back row, some of the other students had far less self-control than he did.

Izuku sighed dramatically in his mind. Nezzy-Nii made even the most boring subject fun. It was why Izuku loved being the Chimera Principal’s personal student.

This? This felt like a punishment.

Izuku would definitely be sticking to his regular lessons from now on.

His fingers twitched with temptation as he imagined just casually flying out the window. He could do it. He could absolutely just zoom out of here and go find Dad. No one would stop him. It wasn’t like anyone was even paying attention to him anyway. By the time anyone noticed, Izuku would already be half across the campus.

Honestly? It was starting to sound like a great idea.

Izuku was already adjusting in his seat, bracing himself to leap for freedom—when the lunch bell rang.

The heartbeat of the sleeping classmates suddenly spiked as the bell rang—then over half the students bolted out of the room like a villain had just appeared.

Izuku would’ve laughed if he wasn’t part of the stampede himself.

He was at least a little more subtle about it, though—slipping quietly out and heading straight for the teacher’s lounge.

There, he sat down with Dad and Papa for lunch.

Toshi-nii had told him earlier that he’d be eating in the cafeteria. It was either that, or having to sit through another one of Papa’s lectures about how important it was for a teenager to socialize and make friends, and how Hitoshi needed to stop acting so much like Shouta.

So Hitoshi decided the crowded cafeteria was the lesser evil.

Izuku didn’t comment. He was pretty sure Hitoshi’s “I’m a loner, no friends needed” act wouldn’t last much longer anyway.

Especially if the loud blond curse Dad had mentioned held any truth.

There was already at least one shadow in class who seemed very interested in Hitoshi.

Izuku didn’t say anything about what he’d overheard, because he was a good little brother.

But he definitely planned to tease Hitoshi about it later, because he was a good little brother.

Lunch passed quickly, and once it was over, Izuku headed back to Class 1-A with his Dad. Shouta decided to skip today’s hero lesson, just to keep an eye on things—quietly, from a vent somewhere.

I’m not dramatic, Bitten . This is the best spot to watch without them noticing.

Izuku settled back at the teacher’s desk, nibbling on the blueberries Lunch Rush had brought him, waiting for the lesson to begin.

Then, unmistakable loud footsteps thundered down the hall.

“I AM HERE…” All Might’s booming voice filled the room, and a few of the students with heightened hearing winced at the volume. “COMING THROUGH THE DOOR LIKE A NORM—” The door burst open, with All Might leaning his body into room in an almost perfect 45 degrees, only for his eyes to immediately lock onto Izuku. “GAH, YOU’RE HERE!”

Then All Might missed the doorframe corner and crashed face-first onto the floor.

A pin dropped as the entire classroom froze, staring at the fallen Symbol of Peace.

Without missing a beat, Izuku casually stood, grabbed his bowl of blueberries, and crouched beside All Might.

“Blueberries?” he offered, holding out the bowl with a small smile.

All Might looked up, his gaze flickering to the blindfold wrapped around Izuku’s eyes. For a split second, Izuku caught the surprise flicker in his expression before All Might quickly recovered, standing up and brushing dust off his suit. He ignored the offered blueberries, though Izuku knew the gesture had caught him off guard.

What a weird kid. Is that some kind of trick? his shadow murmured quietly.

Izuku just shrugged and popped another blueberry into his mouth as All Might took his place at the front of the class. Striking a grand pose, acting like he hadn’t just fallen flat on his face moments before, All Might boomed:

“WELCOME TO HEROING 101! THE BACKBONE CLASS OF EVERY HERO SCHOOL!”

A heavy silence and a few sweatdrops rippled through the room, but All Might pressed on undeterred.

“NOW, I’M SURE EVERYONE IS EXCITED TO START. AND TODAY, WE’LL BE GETTING STRAIGHT INTO BUSINESS.”

He held up a large card, bold letters emblazoned on it:

BATTLE.

“WITH BATTLE TRIALS!”

Now that got a reaction.

Chairs scraped loudly against the floor, and excited murmurs rippled through the classroom like a rising tide. Kaminari threw his hands up, shouting, “Let’s gooo!” while Kirishima whooped enthusiastically, declaring something about unleashing the true manly spirit. Even the quieter students perked up, sitting straighter, their eyes gleaming with interest.

Izuku’s attention flickered briefly to the ceiling where he spotted his Dad’s heat signature slipping quietly from the vents, probably already making his way to Ground Beta where the class was set to take place.

“BUT REMEMBER—ONE OF THE KEY PARTS OF BEING A HERO…” All Might struck another dramatic pose, finger raised, “IS LOOKING GOOD WHILE DOING IT! SO, WE HAVE A LITTLE GIFT FOR YOU.” He gestured grandly to the cases.

“THE COSTUME DESIGNS YOU SUBMITTED A FEW WEEKS AGO ARE NOW READY FOR FIELD USE. PLEASE, GRAB THE CASE WITH YOUR SEAT NUMBER AND HEAD TO THE LOCKER ROOM. WE’LL  MEET AT GROUND BETA!” He raised a fist high in the air and called out, “YOUNG YAMIKUMO, PLEASE GUIDE THE STUDENTS.” Then he turned dramatically to the door. “NOW, I’LL SHOW YOU HOW A HERO MAKES AN EXIT! ALL MIGHT, OUT!”

He disappeared in a flash, cape fluttering like a dramatic punctuation mark.

Izuku let out a small sigh, entirely unphased. He hopped off the desk, licking the last bit of blueberry juice from his fingers before brushing his hands off on his pants. He left the now-empty bowl behind and turned to face the class.

“Alright,” he said—not loud, but with enough quiet command that it cut through the lingering excitement. “You heard him. Let’s move, people.”

Then he turned around and walked as everyone scrambled to grab their cases and follow him.

Because while most of the class thought Izuku was adorable, they remembered he was Aizawa’s sidekick, and no one wanted to find out if he had a scary side.

Izuku found the situation quite amusing. He was starting to understand why his Dad enjoyed messing with people so much.

What are you talking about, Toshi-Nii? Dad didn’t influence Izuku at all.

Chapter Text

Every year, without fail, Shouta told himself not to get his hopes up. And every year, without fail, he still wound up wishing he could bleach his retinas.

Hero costumes were supposed to be functional. Practical. Shouta understood that popularity was important for a Limelight Hero, but that should come second to staying alive. Why did it look like no one ever got the memo?

He swore half of them designed their outfits with social media likes in mind.

Ashido’s top was strapless. Strapless. In what world did that seem stable for combat?

 Jirou looked like she’d walked in from a trendy mall— not that Shouta blamed her; at least she was comfortable, even if it was bad as a hero uniform. Uraraka was wearing heels. That was begging for a broken ankle. And Yaoyorozu—

Shouta didn’t even finish the thought. He just exhaled through his nose like a tired bull.

That costume was going to be the reason someone sued the school one day.

He glanced at Hagakure and prayed to every divine being that she had something on. Because if she wasn’t, he might really end up murdering someone.

The only girl with some sense was Asui. Functional, practical, form-fitting but not ridiculous. Honestly, she might be his favorite right now, and she hadn’t even spoken a word to him today.

The boys weren’t that much better.

Ojiro looked like he was ready to compete in a karate tournament. Kirishima was shirtless like he thought they were filming a beach episode. Kaminari wore street clothes with accessories and dared call it a costume. Iida… was wearing a miniature tank. Shouta didn’t care if he was trying to honor his brother—he was going to break his neck if he tried to run full-speed in that thing.

And Mineta—

Shouta closed his eyes and took a slow, deliberate breath.

He refused to comment on the iron diaper.

Then there was Todoroki.

Shouta looked at him. Stared, really.

That thing he was wearing? A pure declaration of daddy issues in fabric form.

Shouta wished he'd never looked.

That kid really needed therapy. Family therapy.

And Hitoshi… well, of course Hitoshi picked a costume that was basically his own in purple. How could Shouta expect originality from his number one fanboy?

Standing next to Izuku, the two of them looked less like a sidekick and hero student, and more like two brothers who wore matching cosplays to a hero con. They were even doing the same brooding pose.

Shouta took a discreet photo to show Hizashi later. He could already hear the delighted screech Hizashi would let out when he saw it. Better be ready to erase his quirk.

When the last straggler finally made it to Ground Beta—looking winded, mismatched, or still adjusting gear—Shouta flicked his eyes toward the large clock mounted on the wall and sighed quietly.

Twenty-eight minutes.

It had taken them nearly half an hour to put on their costumes and walk from the lockers. Unacceptable.

If this had been a real emergency, they’d be arriving right on time to join the clean up crew and recover bodies. Unaceptable.

But… it was their first time. Shouta would let it slide—for now. He still remembered how wide-eyed kids could get over their first costumes. The novelty would wear off. Eventually. He’d make damn sure it did.

Shouta pinched the bridge of his nose, hidden in the shadows of the vent, as All Might struck yet another dramatic pose, like someone in a bodybuilding competition, below and started addressing the class. 

“LOOKING SHARP, YOUNG HEROES!” the Symbol of Peace declared, absolutely beaming like this was a fashion show and not, you know, a practical hero exercise.

Of course he loved the costumes. Of course he did. Flashy, loud, impractical—it was like someone handed All Might a rainbow and said, “Make this a uniform.”

Shouta had to physically restrain himself from dropping down right then and there when All Might revealed the lesson plan.

Indoor. Two-on-two combat trials. First day. With a bunch of over-eager teenagers whose quirks could level buildings if someone so much as sneezed wrong.

No warm-up. No training. No control drills. No common sense.

And yet there he was—cheerfully explaining how half the class would play villains defending a “nuclear weapon,” while the other half would act as heroes trying to “save the day.” In a confined building. Without even testing their gear first.

If Bakugou’s gauntlets did what Shouta was thinking they did...

You absolute walking lawsuit, Shouta thought bitterly, suppressing a twitch in his eye.

He understood the whole “experience is the best teacher” saying. He really did. He even agreed with it. Plus Ultra was the school’s motto, after all.

But there was a difference between going “Plus Ultra” and being completely reckless. Shouta only ever pitched students against each other after he'd assessed their quirks, gauged their personalities, and been confident they wouldn’t accidentally chop someone’s arm off because they miscalculated just how sharp a high pressure water get could be.

It would be a miracle if the lesson ended with the building still standing and less than three students in Recovery Girl’s office.

Shouta wouldn’t step in— yet . He wouldn’t undermine All Might’s authority in front of the students. That was a fast track to chaos, and Shouta wasn’t about to turn the class against their own teacher. Incompetent or not, undermining trust in leadership did even more damage than having an incompetent teacher.

But after this was over? Oh, they were going to have a long, long conversation.

The teams were decided by random lot, which, Shouta begrudgingly admitted, was one of All Might’s better decisions. In the real world, heroes rarely had the luxury of choosing their partners. Outside of established duos or tightly-knit teams, most assignments came down to whoever was nearby when trouble struck. It was a good way to simulate field unpredictability.

Still, Shouta thought the whole exercise was far too advanced for a first class. But he was starting to nitpick, and he forced himself to drop the thought.

Once the lots were drawn, it didn’t take long for the unevenness of some matchups to become obvious. With such wildly different quirks and zero experience working with others, those with raw firepower had the clear advantage.

Nothing illustrated that better than the matchup between Todoroki and Shouji versus Ojiro and Hagakure.

It was over in a blink.

Todoroki unleashed a wave of ice that froze half the building and immobilized both his opponents instantly. Effective? Yes. Reckless? Absolutely. In a real situation, an attack like that could’ve easily triggered the bomb they were supposed to secure. His teamwork was nonexistent, but the power he brought to the field was undeniable.

Bakugou and Iida won their match against Uraraka and Kirishima in a more drawn-out brawl. Bakugou brute-forced his way past Kirishima’s hardening, while Iida kept Uraraka away from the bomb long enough for the timer to run out. Bakugou didn’t seem happy about winning by time-out, but to his credit, he didn’t throw a fit about it either.

Hitoshi’s match was as much psychological warfare as anything else. A few pointed insults about Aoyama’s cape being “theatrically offensive” and “a hazard to national safety” got the sparkly boy angrily responding and falling under Hitoshi’s quirk. Meanwhile, Kouda sent a wave of mice into the bomb room—Ashido’s scream could be heard from outside the building as she ran away.

Sero subdued Mineta in under two minutes, webbing him to the ceiling before the grape-headed menace could even squeak. But then Yaoyorozu, despite being outnumbered, barricaded herself in the bomb room and laid several traps to stall Sero and Sato. Time ran out before they could break through.

So far, things had gone smoothly—albeit messily.

But then came the match between Tokoyami and Asui versus Kaminari and Jirou.

That’s when things went sideways.

.-- .... --- --- .--. ...

The match started off well enough.

Tokoyami moved ahead to scout while Asui remained behind to guard the bomb, her posture relaxed but alert. On the opposing side, Kaminari and Jirou entered the building together. With Jirou’s sound tracking, they located both enemies quickly and decided to launch a surprise attack.

That’s when everything went wrong.

Kaminari let loose a full-powered discharge, aiming to incapacitate Tokoyami in one strike. But Tokoyami was faster—he dove behind cover just in time. The attack missed him, but the electricity didn’t just stop there. It surged through the entire building, arcing into every wire and light fixture.

Every lightbulb burst with a pop. Sparks flew. And then—total blackout.

In an instant, the building was swallowed in darkness.

And with it… came something else.

Dark Shadow’s form exploded in size, more than doubling within seconds. The temperature in the room dropped, and a sudden wave of pressure rippled through the air. From the monitor, Shouta could see Tokoyami’s silhouette—and the fear in his eyes.

He wasn’t in control anymore.

Kaminari, brain-fried and barely upright, was a sitting duck. Jirou might as well have brought a spoon to a sword fight—there was no way she could hold her ground against Dark Shadow in that state.

Shouta didn’t hesitate. He dropped down from the vent, ready to run for the building to stop this before anyone got seriously hurt.

But Izuku moved first.

Before Shouta could even blink, Izuku launched himself out of the viewing room, wings snapping open mid-air. He rocketed down the street, fast as a bullet, heading straight for the building as Dark Shadow’s screech could be heard.

-... . - - . .-. / .... ..- .-. .-. -.-- --..-- / .. --.. ..- -.- ..-

Fumikage was panicking.

Dark Shadow had completely lost control—her form had ballooned into something monstrous, tendrils of living shadow lashing wildly in every direction. The walls shuddered with every strike, another cracking open as she slammed against it with brute force. Her growls were guttural, feral—barely resembling anything human anymore.

“Kaminari!” Jirou’s voice rang out, strained as she dragged the dazed boy out of the way just before a chunk of ceiling collapsed behind them.

Fumikage’s heart pounded. No. No, this couldn’t be happening. Not again.

There was no light. No flashlights, no windows, no back-up plan. She was thriving in the dark—and she wasn’t listening.

“Dark Shadow!” he shouted, voice raw with desperation. “It’s me! Please, calm down!”

For a heartbeat, she froze. But then came a distorted shriek that shook the hallway, and she slammed her body into the ceiling. Dust and debris rained down. Her rage had returned, unbridled.

“Don’t let the darkness win, my friend!” Fumikage cried, fists trembling. “You’re stronger than this!”

But his words were drowned in chaos.

She didn’t respond.

And Fumikage felt a terrifying truth settle in his chest like lead—he couldn’t reach her. Not like this. Not without light. Not alone.

Dark Shadow reared up and lunged toward Jirou, who was still shielding Kaminari with her body. Fumikage shut his eyes, and waited for the screams.

But it never came.

Instead, he heard glass shatter, a gust of wind and the flap of wings cutting the air.

When he looked up, his breath caught.

Dark Shadow was frozen mid-lunge, her shadowy wings extended like a predator about to strike—but held back. Standing between her and the others, calm and unmoving, was Yamikumo.

His hand was stretched out.

“Calm down, Dark Shadow,” the boy said gently, like one might soothe a frightened animal. “It’s okay.”

Dark Shadow shrieked in defiance, trying to move—but she couldn’t. Her entire body seemed frozen in the air. Fumikage blinked, startled. Was this Yamikumo’s quirk? He thought he just had a bat mutation because of his wings. How was he holding Dark Shadow?

Yamikumo didn’t flinch. Slowly, he approached—no fear, no hesitation—and laid a hand gently on Dark Shadow’s beak.

“You can control it,” he murmured, voice unwavering. “It’s your power, isn’t it?”

Dark Shadow snarled something unintelligible, but Yamikumo didn’t react with confusion. He nodded—like he understood. Not even Fumikage could understand half of what Dark Shadow said when she was like that.

“Fumi’s not in danger. Look—he’s right there. He’s fine. You protected him.”

Dark Shadow paused. Her massive head turned toward Fumikage, eyes shifting.

“Fu... mi?”

Fumikage stepped forward, his legs shaky. “I’m here,” he said, voice thick. “I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me. I’m safe.”

Dark Shadow blinked—once, twice. Her form started to shrink, the tendrils drawing inward, shadows slithering back into herself.

“There you go,” Yamikumo whispered. “The match is over. You did well. Now rest.”

With one last trembling breath, Dark Shadow let out a soft groan—something almost like a whimper—and faded into Tokoyami’s body, curling protectively around his shoulders.

Silence returned. Then Fumikage collapsed to his knees, breathing hard, blinking at the boy who had just walked into the storm without flinching and calmed it like it was nothing.

Yamikumo stepped forward, his boots silent on the cracked concrete. He folded his wings neatly behind him, then knelt beside Fumikage without hesitation, extending a steady hand.

Fumikage paused for a heartbeat, then accepted it.

Yamikumo’s grip was firm, grounding.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“Just tired,” Fumikage replied honestly. “How did you calm down the beast within her?”

“There’s no beast,” Yamikumo said gently. “She was scared. A little darkness makes Shadows strong—but too much will swallow them whole. Fear makes it worse. Especially with her nyctophobia.”

Fumikage blinked. “Dark Shadow has... nyctophobia? Why didn’t I know that? How do you know that?”

“She told me,” Yamikumo smiled. “Shadows can look scary, but they never lie. Dark Shadow was calling for you. She kept screaming that she needed to protect you.” He gave a small, warm smile. “You’ve got a very kind shadow, you know?”

Fumikage blinked again, pieces falling into place. Dark Shadow was the first one to ask for a nightlight, at the time Fumikage just thought it was because she liked the light, and as he grew older it was just normal, so he never questioned.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, quietly.

“You never asked,” Dark Shadow’s voice rumbled softly, then lowered with a hint of shyness. “And I was too embarrassed to say it.”

Yamikumo chuckled. “A shadow never lies when asked directly. But if you don’t ask, they can keep things hidden. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Dark Shadow. A lot of shadows are afraid of the dark. I know over fifty who are.”

“You can... talk to shadows?” Fumikage asked, still a little confused.

Yamikumo chuckled at the surprise in his voice. “Yeah, shadows are great friends, you know? They don’t lie, and they listen when you need them most.”

He gave a reassuring smile before standing up and glancing back at Dark Shadow. “Come on, we should head back to the viewing room. Don’t worry, Dark Shadow, you’re not in trouble. Neither is Tokoyami, okay?”

Dark Shadow let out a low, almost relieved rumble in response as Yamikumo got up.

Yamikumo moved quickly to check on Jirou and Kaminari, relieved to find them both unharmed—if a bit rattled. Jirou gave a tired but understanding smile and quipped, “I almost deafened my whole family once when I plugged my jacks into my dad’s amplifiers by mistake. Quirk accidents happen.”

Fumikage let out a small breath of relief. It was good to see she wasn’t upset with him.

Kaminari, on the other hand, was still so out of it that Fumikage doubted he even noticed what had happened at all.

Asui arrived shortly after, having missed the chaos but caught most of it over the comms. She shook her head gently. “It wasn’t your fault, Tokoyami. And call me Tsu, kero.”

Back in the viewing room, the atmosphere was noticeably tenser. Aizawa-sensei was there for some reason, glaring daggers at All Might, who looked like he’d just run a marathon.

All Might quickly offered a few words of reassurance to Fumikage, Asui, Jirou, and Kaminari before finishing the class abruptly and bolting away like a villain fleeing the police.

Aizawa let out a tired sigh and said, “I’ll give you all my critique during homeroom tomorrow.” Then he dismissed the class with a wave.

On Yamikumo’s recommendation, Tokoyami still went to the infirmary for a check up despite being sure he wasn’t hurt. At least he got an apple lollipop after that. Dark Shadow was definitely happy about it.

Chapter Text

Izuku would like to state, for the record, that he had nothing against All Might. The number one hero wasn’t his favorite—that title was firmly shared between his Dad and Papa—but Izuku didn’t dislike him either.

He was, however, more aware than most of All Might’s flaws and weaknesses. That was to be expected when you were, quite literally, engineered in a lab to fight him one day. It probably would have happened already if Dad hadn’t gotten to him first. But that was beside the point.

Izuku didn’t dislike All Might… but right now? He was starting to reconsider.

The press. The gods-forsaken press. They’d been swarming the school gates all morning, desperate for any scrap of commentary about All Might’s teaching—whether from students or faculty—and willing to get it by any means necessary.

“They’re like sharks,” Izuku muttered, keeping close behind his dad as the man physically pushed reporters back.

“I prefer vultures,” Dad replied, shoving an overeager cameraman out of his personal space.

“This can’t be legal, right? Isn’t this trespassing?” Izuku asked.

“As long as they stay on the other side of the gate, it’s public space,” Dad sighed, sounding deeply done with humanity in general.

“All Might’s not even here today,” Izuku pointed out. “Why are they so—”

He froze. A shiver crawled down his spine, sharp and instinctive. His wings snapped open without thought, and he vaulted into the air over the press.

Heat signatures bloomed in his awareness, heartbeats pounding all around him, but there were too many—too fast—for him to isolate the one that had set him on edge. He hated moments like this. No matter how sharp his senses were, he couldn’t see the way other people did, and sometimes that left him grasping at shadows.

After a long, tense scan, he exhaled in frustration and dropped back to the ground beside his dad.

“What was that?” Dad asked, voice carefully neutral—but Izuku could feel the flicker of worry through their bond.

“I thought I felt something,” Izuku said, head tilting toward the crowd again. “It’s gone now. Maybe I imagined it.”

“Don’t let paranoia eat you alive, but don’t ignore your instincts either,” Dad said quietly, his hand ruffling Izuku’s hair in a casual, grounding gesture.

Izuku bit back a laugh at the comfort it brought and nodded.
“Yeah… maybe. Just be careful.”

“Avoiding the press is the story of my life, Yamikumo. I’ll be fine.” Dad’s tone carried a smugness Izuku could practically hear, but with no proof, he let it slide.

“Go see if Zashi needs help,” Dad added, already turning his focus back to the churning wall of reporters.

Izuku turned away, the noise of the crowd fading behind him. He didn’t notice the figure watching from within it—blue hair peeking out from under an oversized hoodie, a sharp grin cutting across their face.

“There you are, baby bat.” The figure said just as another reporter tried to get too close, this time activating the UA barrier and blocking the vision from inside.

.-- .... --- / -.-. --- ..- .-.. -.. / - .... .- - / -... . ..--.. /

Hitoshi was definitely glad he’d accepted the ride to UA with his uncles today. Both his moms were swamped with work and didn’t want him staying home alone, so after a sleepover at Izuku’s, Shou and Zashi had kindly offered to drive him.

Waking up at an ungodly hour wasn’t ideal, but it was miles better than dealing with the chaos of the press swarming outside the school. Leaving early had its perks—he was one of the first to arrive, which meant he could catch a quick nap at his desk until Uncle Shou showed up to start homeroom. No big deal.

What was a bigger deal was that most of his classmates apparently had no concept of an inside voice. And then there was that annoying, loud blond who had decided Hitoshi was “friend material” for some reason after exactly one glance.

Honestly, Kaminari was like the human embodiment of a golden retriever, and Hitoshi just didn’t get it. He wasn’t friendly. He was rude as hell, and everyone said that when he was sleepy, his resting bitch face was even scarier than Uncle Shou’s—which was definitely true right now. Yet somehow, Kaminari didn’t seem to notice.

Stupid loud blondes. Stupid, pretty, loud blondes…

Wait. What? No. Nope. That thought was definitely going straight into the denial box.

Out of nowhere, a warm hand landed on Hitoshi’s forehead.  “Hey, dude, you okay? You’re looking kinda red.”

Hitoshi yanked his head back and buried his blushing face into his crossed arms. “I’m fine. Just leave me alone.”

But Kaminari wasn’t about to back off.

“C’mon, you don’t look fine.” He plopped down next to Hitoshi, grinning like cracking his grumpy shell was a personal quest. “Did you get sick or something? Maybe you need some water or—”

“No, I’m not sick.” Hitoshi muttered, refusing to meet his eyes. “And I don’t need your ‘help.’”

 “Alright, no water.” Kaminari just laughed, totally unfazed. “How about some company? You’ve been quiet since you got here, and that’s just weird.”

Hitoshi shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “That’s called being normal.”

“Every introvert needs an extrovert friend to adopt them.” The puppy in human skin just chuckled. “You’re my chosen one. Don’t even try to resist.”

Hitoshi’s scowl deepened, but a tiny corner of his mouth twitched like he wasn’t totally immune. “Chosen one? Seriously? I bet you say that to everyone.”

“Not everyone,” Kaminari said, mock offended. “Just the cool ones. Like you.”

“Oh, hush.” Hitoshi snorted. “You’re not smooth-talking me. I don’t do ‘friends.’”

“Challenge accepted!” Kaminari grinned.

Hitoshi groaned, banging his head lightly on the desk. Looks like the loud blond wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Maybe he should ask Uncle Shou for tips on dealing with this guy.

 Then again... Uncle Shou ended up married to his loud blonde. Maybe that wasn’t such a great idea after all.

Thankfully, the bell spared Hitoshi from having to question his life choices—or his sexuality—any further. The second it rang, the room shifted into a controlled scramble. By day three, everyone had already learned the golden rule: don’t keep Aizawa waiting unless you had a death wish.

The door slid open, and in walked Uncle Shouta, with Izuku trailing behind him like a duckling. An adorable, bat-winged, lethal duckling.

“Morning,” Shouta greeted flatly, already pulling out his capture scarf. “I reviewed your performances from yesterday, so let’s get started. I won’t beat around the bush.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at Todoroki first.

“Todoroki, good control and efficiency, however, what part of ‘team activity’ didn’t you understand? You’re supposed to work with your partner, not around them.” Todoroki gave a slow blink, neither apologizing nor explaining. Yaoyorozu sighed beside him, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Shouji—solid reconnaissance, but you need to be more assertive with your teammate.”  Shoji gave a respectful nod.

“Ojiro field work isn’t like sparring in a dojo. The boots are part of the uniform for a reason. Wear them.”  

Ojiro winced and muttered a “Yes, Sensei,” tail flicking nervously.

“Hagakure—see Power Loader after class. You need a costume that actually works with your quirk.” Uncle Shouta pinched the bridge of his nose.

Wait, was Hagakure actually naked? Who even approved that?

“Aoyama, while distraction is a huge part of the dramatic flair some heroes use, it’s the opponent that should be distracted, not yourself. Worry less about how you look and more about staying alive in the field.”

Aoyama let out a string of french words Hitoshi wasn’t even going to try to understand.

“Koda, good job exploiting a weakness, but next time, try to tone down a little on the trauma factor.” Kouda looked torn between pride and embarrassment at those words.

“Kirishima—good stalling tactic, but your offense needs work.” 

Kirishima grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “Guess I got carried away with the whole ‘manly defense’ thing.” Sero elbowed him with a grin.

“Kaminari—if you knock yourself out after one attack, you’re a liability. Fix your quirk control.”

Kaminari gave an overly dramatic salute. “Yes, sir! I’ll try not to fry my brain next time!”

Jirou rolled her eyes and muttered, “I’ll believe when I see.”

“Tokoyami—whoever says heroes don’t feel fear is lying. Knowing what Dark Shadow fears is good. Now figure out how to keep that fear from controlling her. See Yamikumo after class. He’ll start training you on it.”

Tokoyami inclined his head gravely, while Dark Shadow peeked out and muttered a quiet, “Thanks…” in Yamikumo’s direction.

“If you have any questions or want a more detailed breakdown,” Uncle Shouta said, tucking his clipboard under one arm, “you can find me after class. For now—”

His gaze swept over the room, sharp enough to silence even the loudest students. “—you’d better get ready for a decision that will influence the rest of your time at U.A.”

The class collectively froze. You could almost hear the gears grinding in their heads. Secret test? Surprise combat trial? Someone about to be expelled?

Shouta let the tension hang just long enough for a few nervous gulps… then dropped the bomb without a hint of drama:

“You’re going to choose a class representative.”

It was almost comical how quickly the atmosphere deflated—half the class slumping in relief, the other half suddenly sitting up straighter.

“OH YEAH! NOW THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!” Kaminari whooped, punching the air… only to slowly sink back into his seat when Shouta’s flat stare zeroed in on him.

“As I was saying—class representatives. You have until the end of the day to decide, or I’ll pick for you.” He reached for the atrocious yellow sleeping bag, unzipping it with practiced ease. “I don’t care how you choose—vote, fight, rock-paper-scissors—just don’t wake me unless it’s an emergency. And Yamikumo isn’t eligible. He’s my sidekick, not your classmate.”

With that, he zipped himself in and flopped onto the floor like a human caterpillar.

Izuku, unfazed, gave the class a small wave before settling cross-legged beside Shouta. Wings neatly folded, he pulled out a permanent marker and started doodling something on a scrap of paper.

Meanwhile, the rest of the class erupted into chaotic self-promotion. Slogans were shouted, imaginary campaign posters described in alarming detail, and someone (probably Kaminari) was already promising extra dessert at lunch.

Hitoshi leaned back in his chair, watching the chaos unfold with mild horror. As long as it wasn’t him, he honestly didn’t care who wore the crown. Still…

“You guys know class rep isn’t as glamorous as you think, right?” The words slipped out before he could stop them. “It’s a ton of responsibility. Like—”

Every head turned toward him, expectant. His confidence immediately wavered.

So, he did the only logical thing.

Hitoshi snapped his fingers and pointed straight at Izuku.

Izuku didn’t even look up from his drawing as he started explaining.  “Being class representative means organizing events and handling complaints from everyone — including teachers,” he said, the pen gliding across the paper. Hitoshi couldn’t help but wonder since when Izuku even tried to draw. ‘Blind’ and ‘draw’ were not exactly words that belonged in the same sentence.

“Then there’s making sure the class stays on schedule, managing interclass disputes, dealing with misbehavior… You’ll basically be the ‘head’ of the ‘1-A hero agency,’ and that comes with all the good and the bad.”

Hitoshi raised an eyebrow as Izuku’s voice remained calm and steady, almost like reading from a manual.

“Last year, the first one who got voted wanted to quit a week in but had to stay until the next election — which only happens every new semester. And don’t forget the paperwork. So. Much. Paperwork. You’ll be signing forms until you see them in your dreams.”

A stunned silence fell over the room. One by one, excited hands slowly dropped, the earlier enthusiasm about being class rep evaporating like mist. Hitoshi had to suppress a small grin at the sudden deflation of everyone’s campaign speeches.

By the time the bell rang, only two people still wanted the job. After a brief and uneventful vote, Iida was elected class president, and Yaoyorozu took the vice president spot.

Everyone seemed satisfied with the results, and Iida looked like he was literally walking on air.

Well, all’s well that ends well.

That is, until lunchtime when the press somehow managed to get past the UA barrier and mob the school. Really, how stupid can the vultures get?

... --- .-. .-. -.-- --..-- / --. --- - / .-.. .- --.. -.-- / .- - / - .... . / . -. -.. / .... . .-. .

Izuku stood beside his Dad, staring down at the shattered remains of the UA barrier — now little more than dust and cracked fragments scattered on the ground. It was rare for quirks to cause this level of destruction, and a cold knot formed in his stomach. Deep down, he feared he already knew who was responsible. He wanted to be wrong, but his earlier unease made that hope feel naive.

Still, he had to do what needed to be done.

As the last students filtered away and the area was officially quarantined, Izuku knelt beside the rubble. His fingers brushed gently over a nearby shadow cast by the wreckage.

“Can you show me what happened?” he asked quietly, his voice steady but soft.

The shadow didn’t answer in words—shadows tied to people could speak, but inanimate ones couldn’t. But that didn’t matter. They had other ways to communicate.

Slowly, the shadow curled up around Izuku’s arms like a living cloak. Knowing what to do, he released his quirk fully, and the shadows began to shift and writhe, painting a flickering silhouette theater against the nearby wall.

In the dark play, the intact barrier loomed tall and strong. A sea of reporters and press buzzed against it, desperate to get through but held back by the invisible wall. Then, a figure approached—only a hand reached out to touch the barrier. Instantly, the entire structure shattered and crumbled, sending dust billowing into the air. The press surged forward, no questions asked, no hesitation.

Izuku’s chest tightened as the shadows fell still.

He wasn’t wrong.

He knew this quirk. He knew who could shatter so much with a single touch. He was painfully familiar with that power.

“Shigaraki...” The name hit him like a phantom pain in his wings, but he pushed it down. Now wasn’t the time for a breakdown. They needed to prepare.

This wasn’t a random attack.

This was a declaration of war.

Chapter Text

Shouta hated seeing Izuku like this.

The moment his son had said that name, Shigaraki, it was like a switch flipped. Izuku slipped straight into Terminator Mode—the bond closed tight, emotions gone, replaced by nothing but silence.

Since then, Izuku had barely spoken a word. He responded when directly addressed, but his voice was flat, mechanical, devoid of warmth. He ate the blackberries they offered, but his expression never changed. He picked up his plushies, only to let them fall from his hands as if they meant nothing. Hizashi even tried singing—loud and off-key, the kind of performance that usually earned at least a huff of laughter—but Izuku didn’t so much as twitch. And when either of them tried to touch him, the stinger came out, sharp and dangerous.

None of their usual methods worked. None of their safe little tricks to bring him back. The only clue Izuku gave was that single word: Shigaraki.

Shouta had heard the name before. It slipped out a few times in therapy, or in late-night conversations when Izuku couldn’t sleep. Each time, the reaction was the same: the bond flaring with the most primal fear Shouta had ever felt—before it shut down completely. Whatever memories lived behind that name were buried so deep, so poisoned with terror, that Izuku couldn’t face them. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

The pieces were enough. Shigaraki was a villain—someone the doctor had sent Izuku to when he wanted him punished. Someone who had hurt Izuku so badly that the fear was seared into his soul.

Shouta knew there was a way to get answers. In this state, if he gave a direct order, Izuku would obey. He’d spill everything, because that’s what he’d been conditioned to do. And that was exactly why Shouta refused. He’d sworn he would never exploit that conditioning, never use the programming that had already stolen so much of his son’s freedom. Even if it meant staying blind. Even if it meant walking into danger unprepared.

Because his gut told him danger was coming.

Today, of all days, they were taking the class to the USJ for rescue training. Normally, it was a straightforward exercise, one of the safer ones on the curriculum. But everything in Shouta’s instincts screamed that it wouldn’t be routine this time.

And of course, All Might had chosen today to burn through his time fighting purse-snatchers and bank robbers—villains any other pro could’ve handled. Which meant they’d be one teacher short.

Shouta pinched the bridge of his nose, suppressing a curse.

Great. Just. Great.

Shouta cracked one eye open just enough to take in the bus aisle’s live-action circus. Kaminari and Mina were snorting at something they’d already forgotten, Bakugou was radiating homicidal glares at anyone who breathed too close, and Iida—predictably—was bellowing orders as if he could somehow make a bunch of teenagers behave, and not realizing he was being the loudest of all. It sounded like a pack of caffeinated squirrels. 

Five minutes. Just five minutes, Shouta told himself, and closed his eyes again.

Beside him, Izuku sat unnervingly still, head bowed so his bangs threw his face into shadow. He hadn’t spoken since they left the school. His wings were folded tight and rigid against his back, the only motion a small, irritated twitch of his stinger whenever the noise spiked. Shouta watched a laugh from Kaminari make Izuku’s jaw harden and felt something unpleasant twist in his chest. He hated seeing his son slip that deep into himself, hated how little of a rope he had to pull him back.

The bus slowed and the route ended far too quickly. Shouta shepherded the students off into the grey morning and found Thirteen already waiting at the staging area, hands clasped behind his back and ready with the familiar lecture about how quirks can kill—and how today’s lesson was about using that power to save. Shouta had heard that speech a dozen times; today his attention stayed glued to Izuku.

Hitoshi hovered close, not listening to the speech either, eyes flicking from Thirteen to Izuku with steady, quiet worry. Shouta didn’t blame him. He knew Hitoshi already understood far too well how dangerous his quirk was. It was something he heard from almost everyone all his life, so Shouta wouldn’t admonish him for not paying attention.

Besides, he would never fault his nephew for being worried about his soulbrother.

They had barely stepped into the USJ when something went wrong.

The first sign was subtle—a flicker in the lights. Students glanced around, puzzled, but Shouta’s gaze was already locked on Izuku.

The boy’s head snapped up, and the bond spiked violently. Pure, unfiltered terror radiated off him, cutting through his usual Terminator Mode like a blade. Shouta’s stomach tightened. He’d never felt fear like this from his son—not even close.

Then he saw it. A swirl of smoke—or mist—twisting into a dark, purple haze that began coalescing into a portal. A hand emerged first, followed by the rest of a figure stepping through.

The first to appear was a young man, maybe early twenties, with blue hair and dry, pallid skin. What made Shouta’s blood run cold wasn’t the appearance alone—it was the dozens of disembodied hands clinging to him: arms, neck, face. Shouta couldn’t tell if they were real, and he didn’t want to.

“Did the training already start?” Kirishima stepped forward, curiosity painting his voice, and instantly drew Shouta’s ire.

“Step back! This is real!” Shouta snapped, his voice low but commanding. “Those are real villains! Thirteen, Yamikumo, protect the students!”

The moment the words left his mouth, the bond shut down again. Izuku’s conditioning kicked in, the fear momentarily suppressed beneath obedience. Shouta hated seeing it—hated having to force him to push it aside—but it was better than freezing in place.

A few students murmured about the lack of alarms, and Kaminari’s failed attempts to reach the school. Communications must be jammed.

Shouta had a contingency. He subtly reached into his utility belt and pulled out a sleek, unassuming pen. Rolling up his sleeve, he traced a simple message across his forearm. The pen left no mark on his skin—but the message would appear instantly on Hizashi’s.

Romantic soulmates had many advantages. Among them, instant, covert communication anywhere. Shouta’s pen was developed for hero use: invisible to the world, but perfectly visible to his partner.

The message was short. Simple.

.. - ... / - .. -- .

Hizashi loved teaching. He lived for the tiny victories—the lightbulb moments, the students who finally parsed a sentence, the sigh of relief when grammar stopped being a monster. He put his whole self into English class, even if the kids didn’t always appreciate his enthusiasm.

Today, though, his heart wasn’t in participles and past perfects. It was with his husband and his son, miles away at the USJ. If he could snap his fingers and be there, he would. Instead he stood at the chalkboard, trying to explain clause structure while feeling like someone had dropped an anvil onto his chest.

Mid-sentence, something crawled up his spine: a cold, pure panic that had nothing to do with grammar drills. It hit him like a physical pressure in the throat. He tasted iron. His hand went to his chest before his brain could catch up.

It took him one sharp, awful second to realize where it was coming from—his bond. Izuku.

Knowing the boy was in Terminator Mode made the sensation worse. Whatever had cut through that shut-down, obedient shell and sparked raw terror had to be catastrophic.

The panic ebbed as quickly as it had flared, replaced by a burning prickling along his forearm. Instinctively, he ripped his sleeve up.

Three letters scrawled across his skin, impossible and blunt.

S.O.S.

The classroom dissolved for him. The chalk squeak, the half-formed student question, the page numbers floating in the air—everything snapped into a distant hum. His face went pale. He didn’t need to read the letters twice.

“Mic-Sensei?” A hand rose in the second row—one of his quieter students, tentative. “Is everything—?”

Hizashi inhaled, squaring his shoulders even though his legs wanted to fold. He forced his usual smile back in place, because that was the only tool he had in front of a roomful of teenagers.

“Sorry, Listeners,” he said, with faux cheerfulness. “Something just came up. Please open your books to page ninety-two and begin the exercise in pairs. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

A few confused faces, one or two worried ones, but the class complied.

He moved before his brain had finished negotiating with itself. A quick message to the staff channel, fingers flying over his phone: USJ — emergency. Husband sent S.O.S. Mobilize— then he punched the line to the administration and Nedzu at once, voice low and urgent. “This is Present Mic. There’s an S.O.S. from Eraserhead via Soulmate Bond. USJ. Assume communications are jammed. We need backup. NOW!”

“This is Nedzu,” his boss’ voice came through the line, calm but clipped. “Teachers are already mobilizing.”

Before Hizashi could respond, a level 4 alarm blared through the school, urgent and shrill. “All Might is moving ahead. I can sense Izuku through the bond—he’s still at the USJ, so we can assume the students are all there.”

“Copy that,” Hizashi said, forcing himself to suppress the rising panic. Every second counted now, and losing his composure would only slow him down. “I’m moving to the buses. ETA two minutes.”

He ended the call, slipping his phone into a secure pocket. His coat flared behind him as he sprinted through the hallways, scanning for any remaining students in his path. Even in the chaos, his mind ran through scenarios, contingencies, and exits. Every step brought him closer to the USJ, closer to his husband, and most importantly, closer to his son.

Two minutes. He had to make those two minutes count.

-... .- -.-. -.- / - --- / - .... . / -.-. .... .- --- …

Things felt unreal, like moving through a fog that thickened with every step. Izuku knew he was at the USJ, but it was as if the building itself were a haze, muting sound and warping light. His mind spun, barely tethered to the present, until a shape in the mist snapped him fully awake.

Kurogiri.

The sight of the quirk made his stomach twist into knots he thought he’d long since mastered. If Kurogiri was here, Shigaraki wasn’t far behind. Panic clawed at him, threatening to override every carefully built barrier in his mind, and for a moment, Izuku froze.

Then came the order.

Protect the students.

He obeyed. That was what he was made for. That was what he did.

He was a good boy and good boys obeyed orders.

Instantly, the fear retreated, shoved so deep into his mind that it might as well not exist. His senses sharpened; heat signatures became markers, every movement cataloged, every threat tracked.

He saw Eraserhead preparing to leap into the fray, ready to buy the students time to escape. A pang of fear shot through Izuku’s chest—not for himself, but for his Dad. He reached out instinctively, clutching his arm.

Dad’s gaze met his, calm and steady. A small, reassuring smile formed on his lips.
“I’ll come back, Bitten. I’m not abandoning you.” The words were soft, almost too soft to hear, but Izuku caught them anyway, thanks to his heightened hearing.

He released his grip, letting Eraserhead charge into the villains. They moved like a hurricane, chaos crashing around them, but Izuku didn’t waver. There was work to do. Students to protect.

He snapped into motion, wings unfolding, and began herding the young heroes toward the exit as fast as possible.

They nearly reached the exit when Izuku shot forward, wings fanning wide like a living shield, blocking the students who froze in confusion behind him. Every heartbeat thrummed against his ribcage as he tracked the heat signature ahead—expanding, coiling into that telltale swirling portal. Kurogiri stepped through, smooth as smoke, an impossible calm about him.

“You're still the only one who can detect my gates. You never fail to amaze, S-15,” Kurogiri said, his voice polite, measured.

A few students whispered, confused. “S-15?”

Izuku ignored them, eyes locked on Kurogiri.

“Where are my manners?” Kurogiri continued, bowing slightly. “My apologies for interrupting your class, but our group decided to invite ourselves on this little excurssion—to ensure All Might takes his final breath.” He chuckled, the sound unsettling in the empty hall. “Though it seems he's not here. No matter. My duty remains.”

Kacchan and Kirishima tensed, ready to leap forward, but Izuku didn’t allow it. Shadows flicked and wrapped around them like chains, restraining their movement before they could act recklessly.

“My duty,” Kurogiri said, raising his arms as mist swirled and thickened, “is to scatter you, so my associates may… torture you to death.”

Izuku’s jaw tightened. His shadows responded instinctively, weaving through the mist like liquid steel. Thin whips formed, coiling and striking with precision.

Hero Notebook, Volume 7, page 28. Edgeshot Special Move. Spiral Spear Hand.

All the thin shadow tendrils converged on Kurogiri, targeting the metal brace at his neck. The impact made him release the mist with a sharp hiss, eyes widening as the shadows pierced through.

“I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy with you here,” Kurogiri said, voice unnervingly calm, even as he looked like a pin cushion. “Tomura wants you back, S-15. So does Sensei. Stop playing hero and return to where you belong.”

“S-15 is dead,” Izuku replied, voice emotionless, cold as iron.

“So, you’ve found a new master. That makes things easier,” Kurogiri said, almost contemplatively. “To retrieve you, we just need to remove the current one. I wonder where they are right now.”

For a split second, fear spiked in Izuku’s chest, flickering past his Terminator Mode. Shadows quivered briefly as he glanced toward the plaza.

“Eraserhead, then.” Kurogiri’s smirk widened, and before Izuku could react, a portal opened. “While my first objective failed, I’m sure Tomura will be pleased with the news. You may leave now.”

In an instant, he vanished, leaving nothing but a faint swirl of mist behind.

Izuku’s instincts screamed to take off after him, to protect his Dad. Every fiber of him wanted to dash into the plaza and face Shigaraki head-on. But he couldn’t.

Orders came first. He was a good boy, and good boys obeyed orders.

Izuku ran with the students to the exit, where Thirteen was already using their Black Hole to break the door and make an exit.

Until all the students were out of danger, he couldn’t go help his Dad. He had to believe he would be fine.

Chapter Text

Shouta moved like a shadow through the chaos. His capture weapon snapped and coiled through the air, precise and unrelenting, striking pressure points and joints with the practiced rhythm of someone who had done this far too many times.

A kick to the ribs.
A sweep to the knees.
A sharp tug of his capture weapon and another villain hit the concrete, unconscious before they even hit the ground.

They kept coming, a flood of half-trained thugs and low-level criminals, all loud mouths and no discipline. None of them were a real threat, not individually. But there were too many, and he could already feel the strain building in his muscles, the pull in his shoulders every time his scarf whipped out and recoiled.

He was an ambush fighter. He worked best in the dark, one-on-one, quick and efficient. This—this battlefield chaos—wasn’t his style. But the alternative was letting them reach his students, and that was not an option.

He rolled under a swinging pipe, came up with a brutal uppercut, and grabbed another by the collar, slamming him into the floor hard enough to make the ground shudder.

He couldn’t let himself think about the exhaustion creeping in. Couldn’t afford to.

Not when that thing—the hulking, inhuman creature that stood behind their apparent leader—was still watching.

The man in front was young, maybe early twenties, his presence wrong in a way Shouta couldn’t put into words. Blue hair, dry, pale skin, and those hands—gripping his face, his neck, his arms like grotesque ornaments. Even from a distance, Shouta could feel the instability radiating off him, that unsettling aura of someone barely tethered to reality.

He wasn’t attacking. Not yet. Just watching, like he was studying Shouta’s every move.

Shouta tightened his stance, breathing steady despite the burn in his lungs. He’d faced villains before—too many—but something about this one made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Shouta caught the faint sound of the young man muttering under his breath, an agitated string of words that almost made him pause. The cadence—the restless, spiraling tone—was so much like Izuku’s muttering storms that it twisted something in his chest. For a fleeting, irrational moment, he wondered if that was where his son had picked up the habit.

But there was no time for that thought. Not now.

He pivoted sharply, catching movement in his peripheral vision, and drove his heel into the side of a charging villain’s head. The man went down hard. Shouta barely had time to reset his stance before his vision flickered—his quirk’s limit.

The moment his power dropped, the air shifted.

The blue-haired man moved, too fast to be casual, and the grin that crept beneath the fingers covering his face sent every instinct in Shouta’s body screaming. He lashed out on reflex, an elbow aimed for the ribs—only for his strike to collide with a hand instead.

Pain flared.

The villain’s fingers curled around his arm, and in an instant, Shouta saw it—the fabric of his sleeve turning gray, then the skin beneath it, cracking, flaking, disintegrating.

He didn’t think. He moved.

A sharp kick to the stomach, enough force to send the villain stumbling back, and Shouta used the recoil to launch himself several feet away, landing hard but steady. His arm burned where the skin had eroded, raw and bleeding, but the decay had stopped spreading.

He exhaled through clenched teeth, keeping his gaze locked on the villain.

The man tilted his head, fingers twitching against his neck in a disturbingly childlike gesture. When he spoke, his voice was dry, like it had been scraped raw from disuse.

“You’re really cool, Eraserhead,” he rasped. “You keep mowing down my pawns like they’re nothing. Your quirk’s like a cheat code.” He smiled wider, the hand on his face twitching. “So annoying.”

“But it has a limit, doesn’t it?” the blue-haired villain drawled, tone shifting into something almost conversational. “Your goggles might hide where you’re looking, but they don’t hide you.” His head tilted, studying Shouta like a wolf toying with a wounded animal. “The time between blinks keeps getting shorter. Your eyes must feel like they’re full of sand, right? Does it burn?”

Shouta’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer. He refused to give this monster the satisfaction. Instead, he flicked his wrist, sending a strand of his capture weapon snapping through the air. It coiled around the neck of a nearby villain who’d been trying to flank him, and with a sharp twist, Shouta yanked him forward and hurled him straight toward the blue-haired leader.

Shouta expected him to dodge. It was what any sane person would do. Instead, the man calmly reached out and caught the incoming body.

There was a single, strangled scream—then nothing.

The thug’s body disintegrated in his hands, crumbling into gray dust that scattered in the air like ash. The villain dusted his palms, the gesture disturbingly casual, as though he’d just brushed off dirt instead of a human being.

The plaza fell deathly silent. Even the other villains froze, the reality of what they’d just witnessed sinking in.

“What the fuck?!” one of them finally shouted, electricity crackling around his fists as he stepped forward. “You just killed my brother! You son of a—”

He never finished.

The massive, inhuman creature beside the leader moved with terrifying speed. One swing—one heavy, brutal punch—and the protesting villain was sent flying across the plaza. Shouta heard the crack of ribs, the crash as the man slammed into the fountain, breaking stone, and the splash of red spreading through the water.

He didn’t get back up.

“Anyone else want to complain?” the leader asked softly, voice almost amused, eyes glinting with malice behind the hand on his face.

No one moved.

Any lingering doubt evaporated in an instant. This guy wasn’t playing around, he was dead serious about killing anyone that got in his way. Shouta’s stomach dropped. Most of the thugs around them probably hadn’t realized what they’d signed up for; he might have felt sorry for them if their purpose didn’t include threatening his students.

He was about to dive back into the fray when another portal cracked open beside the blue-haired leader—and a new figure stepped through.

“Shigaraki Tomura,” the newcomer announced, voice calm, polite, and dangerous.

“Kurogiri,” the leader replied with a curt nod. Shouta’s skin prickled as the two exchanged a look. “Did you get the students?”

Kurogiri shook his head. “I wasn’t able to. S-15 surprised me.”

The name landed like a blow. Shouta felt his fists clench—he hated the way they used that designation, not even bothering to think about the person behind it. The villains had no respect for the boy who was his son.

“Ah, the baby bat,” Shigaraki sneered. “Still in his rebellious phase, I see.”

Shouta heard the contempt in the nickname and it made something cold and hard in his chest tighten. He nearly answered, but the leader’s amusement kept him contained.

“You knew he’d be here, Kurogiri. How did you fall for his gank?” Shigaraki taunted.

“You know it’s almost impossible to see him coming, even when you know he’s there,” Kurogiri replied, defensive but not frightened.

“Fair enough. Still, you’re an idiot,” Shigaraki said, unconcerned, and lifted a hand as if to dismiss him. “If you weren’t our escape route, I’d dust you right here.”

Kurogiri only shrugged, completely unfazed by the threat. “I brought information, though. S-15 has a new master. We need to get rid of the current one to retrieve him.”

Shouta’s blood ran cold. “Unless you know who this new master is, your information is useless.” Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed.

“As a matter of fact, I know,” Kurogiri said. “And it just so happens he’s right in front of us.”

Both villains turned toward Shouta.

“Oh? Didn’t know Eraserhead was into monster taming,” Shigaraki sniffed, amusement a razor in his voice.

Shouta flinched as though struck. Izuku wasn’t a monster—he’d never let anyone think that—but to these men, his son was only a tool to be named and reclaimed.

“Well, looks like we have a new objective,” Shigaraki continued, grin spreading. “If All Might won’t show up, at least we can recover Sensei’s summon. Nomu—fetch.”

Shouta barely had time to react. One moment, he was facing the villains; the next, the monstrous Nomu slammed into him, its massive hands curling around his torso like iron bands. Air was crushed from his lungs, ribs groaning under the pressure. He tried to activate his quirk, to do anything, but the creature’s mutation quirk seemed untouchable, shrugging off his power as if it didn’t exist.

“You’re cool, Eraserhead, but against something like my Nomu, you might as well be quirkless,” Shigaraki mocked, stepping forward. “Still, I have to thank you for taking care of the baby bat. He’s always been my favorite toy.”

Shouta gritted his teeth, jaw tight, glaring at the villain through the searing pain. The laugh that followed was like acid in his ears.

“Oh, so much hatred,” Shigaraki continued, his tone dripping with amusement. “Didn’t know a hero could make this kind of face. You must really like the baby bat. I know the feeling. He’s such a useful little toy. Durable too—even I couldn’t break him. I’ve been bored out of my mind since we lost him.”

“He… isn’t… a… toy…” Shouta forced the words past burning lungs, dark spots creeping at the edges of his vision. He refused to give in. He just needed to hold on. Help would arrive any second now.

“Did I hit a sore spot?” Shigaraki cooed mockingly, stepping closer. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him. If he behaves, Sensei might even let him keep your corpse. Oh, but that’s enough of that. We really need to retrieve the bat. Nomu! Kill Eraserhead!”

The Nomu’s grip tightened, its massive fist swinging down ready to crush Shouta into a red puddle on the floor. He closed his eyes, bracing for impact. He saw what this creature did to the other villain. He knew he had no hope of surviving it. 

Izuku, Hitoshi, Zashi… I’m sorry.

Gravity tugged him downward—but then, impossibly, the movement stopped. A sound cut through the chaos, sharp and horrifyingly familiar: the sickening snap of flesh being pierced. Shouta’s eyes snapped open, and he saw dozens of black tendrils erupting from the shadows, impaling the Nomu from all sides, holding it frozen in midair.

Shouta’s neck craned, heart hammering, as he traced the source. Izuku was descending, wings spread, shadows wrapping around his fists like living claws. With a precise, terrifying swiftness, the boy slashed through the Nomu, and Shouta felt the pull of gravity ease as the shadows shifted again.

Instead of hitting the ground, he sank into a cushion of living darkness—soft, impossibly yielding, like the gentlest beanbag. He was lowered carefully to the floor, landing safely behind Izuku.

Izuku stood there, poised and lethal, wings unfurled, stinger coiled high, eyes scanning for the next threat. At Shouta’s feet, the Nomu’s severed arm rolled to a stop. 

Shouta was torn between feeling relief and horror. Because now Izuku was here, in front of the person he was most afraid. 

He wanted to do something, anything, but as he felt his crushed ribs piercing his lung, the black spots on his vision multiplied, and everything went dark.

.. --.. ..- -.- ..- / -.-. .-.. ..- - -.-. ....

Izuku followed orders to the letter, escorting the students out with Thirteen and making certain no villains trailed them. Once the last student cleared the building, he launched into the air, wings slicing through the wind, sensors pushed to their limit. Thermic vision, echolocation, shadowed awareness—everything he had was scanning the area for ambushes. Nothing.

All the villains remained inside, probably waiting for Kurogiri to teleport the students. That would never happen. Not on his watch.

With a controlled nod, Izuku dropped back to the ground, landing beside Thirteen with a soft thud. His eyes flicked over the rescue hero, voice steady.

“Perimeter secure. No villains out here. Students are safe.”

“Good work, Yamikumo,” Thirteen replied, a tone of reassurance hidden beneath their words. Izuku didn’t acknowledge the comfort; he didn’t need it.

Those words were enough. Orders fulfilled. Now he could act.

“Eraserhead needs backup.”

Without hesitation, he unfurled his wings and shot forward, leaving Thirteen no time to protest. By the time their voice reached him, he was already back inside. Shadows surged from his arms, sealing the doors behind him, ensuring no villain could escape. He didn’t pause. Every beat of his wings propelled him toward the plaza, toward his Dad locked in combat, ready to intervene.

Izuku’s chest tightened, every instinct screaming as he watched the Nomu lift his father. Shigaraki’s words echoed in his mind, cold and sharp: “Nomu! Kill Eraserhead!”

The wings on his back snapped open, tail lashing like a whip, shadows surging outward into razor-sharp spears. His body was taut, every muscle primed, every sense honed to a single point. The Nomu’s fist rose, preparing to slam Shouta into the fractured plaza.

No!

Instincts, training, and orders converged. Shadows writhed around the Nomu, coiling tight, piercing reinforced muscles, anchoring it to the cracked concrete. The creature thrashed, but Izuku’s control never wavered. Each tendril, each strike of darkness, calculated to hold, to restrain.

“Stay down,” he growled, low and steady, as the shadows dug deeper, locking the abomination in place.

The Nomu didn’t release Shouta, though. That was when Izuku dove, wings cutting the air, shadows forming clawed extensions around his hands. He struck with surgical precision, slicing the arm holding his father clean off.

Before Shouta could hit the ground, shadows curled around him like a soft, living cushion, lowering him safely behind Izuku.

He knelt there, wings spread wide, stinger arched and poised, head pulled down and away, shadows curling around his skull into a menacing pair of goat horns. A hiss escaped his throat, low and deadly. Every shadow under his command—the animals, the tendrils, the darkness itself—glared at the Nomu, ready to tear it apart.

Every instinct, every ounce of focus, was clear: no one threatens my family while I’m here.

Shigaraki’s laugh cut through the air—cold, familiar, and full of delight.

“Well, well,” he purred, each syllable a knife. “Looks like the baby bat grew fangs.” His smile spread wide, all teeth and malice. “Guess I’ll have to beat them out of you again.”

Something animal and raw ripped from Izuku’s throat—a hiss, half warning, half pain. His wings snapped wider, shadows bristling like barbs. The stinger on his tail rose, trembling with controlled fury. He stepped instinctively between the Nomu and Shouta, one wing sweeping in a protective arc.

“Oh, you remember, don’t you?” Shigaraki’s voice was soft as a slap. “We had such fun together.” He took a slow step forward, hand outstretched, and Izuku felt the world narrow to that hand.

“Do you remember?” Shigaraki crooned, mock tenderness coating every word. “My hand on your back. Your wings rotting under my fingers.” The tone was almost nostalgic as he continued. “They always healed fast—but never before you screamed.”

Heat flared across Izuku’s face. Phantom pain crawled along his wing bones—sharp, intimate, terrifyingly real—and for a second he couldn’t draw breath.

He forced the air out on a clenched, guttural whisper. “Stay back.”

Shigaraki laughed. “Awww—protective now, are we?” He tilted his head, eyes glittering. “Sensei never let you keep toys, remember? You know what happens when you disobey.” His fingernails scraped at his throat; skin flaked like ash under the motion. “You remember the punishment.”

The words were a razor. Izuku’s hands dug into the concrete until his knuckles whitened. The straps, the shocks, the voices that had turned him into something that obeyed—memories slammed into him like waves. His breath hitched, each inhale a ragged effort.

Shigaraki’s voice dropped darker, almost with relish. “You should’ve stayed obedient. Now you’ll watch me kill your little ‘Dad.’ You’ll see the warmth leave him, see him become a cold, rotting corpse. Then I’ll take you back to Sensei where you belong. Maybe he’ll hang the corpse in front of your pod, so you can feel it. Every. Single. Day.”

Acid tore across Izuku’s chest.

“You’re not touching him,” Izuku spat, every word a shattered thing.

Shigaraki grinned, cruel and easy. “Will you stop me?” He raised a hand. “Nomu! Grab the bat!”

The Nomu lunged, tearing itself free from the tendrils that had pierced it. Wounds closed instantly, even regenerating a new arm where Izuku had severed one. Its massive fist swung toward him, and he raised a shadow barrier just in time. The impact cracked the barrier, and the next blow shattered it completely. The light flooding the plaza forced him to pull back his full shadow strength.

At least the Nomu was focused on him. That meant Shouta was safe—for now.

Izuku lifted into the air, leaving his Dad shielded under a dome of shadows. The Nomu jumped after him, fists swinging, but Izuku weaved and darted with preternatural speed, using every opportunity to counterattack—claws slicing, shadow horns ramming, tendrils piercing.

He catalogued the monster as he fought: headbutts absorbed or nullified, slashes work, but piercing attacks are most effective. Regenerates damage instantly. Strength enough to crumble concrete. Faster than Ingenium at low gear.

The regeneration was the biggest problem. Nothing stuck. Every attack was washed away in seconds. He searched for a weakness, any weakness, but found none.

As he tried to gain altitude, the Nomu’s hand shot out and grabbed his right foot. Bones instantly crushed under the grip. Izuku didn’t flinch, didn’t cry out, as the creature swung him like a club. Slam. Slam. Slam. Each impact rattled his brain, but he stayed rigid.

The Nomu lifted him again, hand crushing his foot, reaching for his torso with the other. Instantly, a shadow tendril erupted from the ground, slicing through the creature’s arms, and dropped him safely.

He assessed the damage: multiple broken bones, a pierced lung, head trauma, and a completely shattered leg. Gritting his teeth, Izuku expelled a controlled breath, letting another tendril pierce his abdomen, wrapping around the broken ribs and pulling them out of his lungs. His regeneration quirk kicked in instantly—bones snapped back, flesh healed, head wound sealed.

He yanked off his blindfold and used it to wipe blood from his face.

“It’s always amazing to watch,” Shigaraki’s voice cut through the chaos, amusement dripping from every word. “Even stronger than last time. Sensei really knew what he was doing when he gave you that quirk.”

Izuku gritted his teeth, trying to block out Shigaraki’s taunts. He couldn’t afford a single distraction—not now.

But Shigaraki had other plans.

“Nomu, change of plans. Get Eraserhead,” the villain barked. In an instant, the Nomu turned, lumbering toward the shadow dome still covering Shouta.

Izuku’s breath hitched. Instinct took over. He shot forward, wings unfurling like dark blades, stinger poised. He didn’t have time to think which venom he’d prepared—only that it had to be potent.

As the Nomu’s fist slammed into the dome, cracking it, Izuku wrapped his legs around its neck and drove his stinger straight into its head. His mind froze for a fraction of a second—he didn’t feel the skull, only something soft. Did that thing have the brain exposed? No time to dwell. He pumped every drop of venom he had into the creature.

The effect was immediate. The Nomu’s swings slowed; its muscles failed to fire with the same coordination. Izuku planted his claws into the thing’s neck and hauled, forcing it back as its steps became heavy and irregular.

Then a boom split the air. First came All Might’s arrival—massive, impossibly bright, his presence like a physical force. Behind him, a voice tore through the chaos, full of authority and something much more personal.

“GET OUT OF THE WAY!”

Hizashi. Relief hit Izuku like a warm tide. He leapt free of the Nomu and dropped into a protective stance between Shouta and the world. The Nomu lunged for All Might on command, but the toxin had robbed it of speed. All Might’s barrage finished the creature in seconds, sending it skidding and broken away from the plaza.

Shigaraki’s face scrunched into fury—an animal, enraged at being thwarted. “NO, NO, NO! THE NOMU WAS SUPPOSED TO KILL YOU!” he howled, fingernails scraping at his throat. “YOU BRAT! SINCE WHEN DID YOU HAVE SUCH A VENOM?”

Izuku flinched at the tone but didn’t answer; he had no breath for argument. Shigaraki’s eyes burned with the kind of hate that wanted your bones for a trophy. “Doesn’t matter. I can still kill Eraserhead!”

He charged at them, fast and lethal. Izuku moved before thought fully formed. All his life, one of the rules he always followed was that he never acted against Shigaraki. Doing so would only make things worse. If Shigaraki wanted to hurt him, he should let it happen.

But now, he lashed out with the one thing he had left. The stinger struck true, plunging into Shigaraki’s chest and forcing venom into his veins. The villain’s eyes widened in surprise; blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth.

“You… brat,” Shigaraki rasped. “Kurogiri!” he barked, and the mist answered instantly. Kurogiri’s form wrapped them both, mist swallowing the plaza, and when the air cleared a heartbeat later Shigaraki and the warp villain were gone—pulled through a portal before All Might could reach them.

Exhaustion hit like a train. Izuku fell to his knees, every limb screaming. He crawled, hands slick and shaking, to where his Dad was lying down. Heat readouts told him his father was still alive but badly hurt.

“IZUKU!” Hizashi’s voice called, immediate and raw. Izuku felt the bond spike as his papa knelt beside him, slipping into motion.

He draped a wing protectively over Shouta and raised his head up towards Hizashi’s eyes—relief and worry warring there. Hizashi’s hand was gentle as it took Shouta’s shoulder.

“Hey, Bitten,” Hizashi said softly, voice steady but breaking, “you did good. Your dad’s going to be okay, okay?” He swallowed and then forced himself practical. “But he needs help now. Can you let me take him? We need to get him to—” Hizashi hesitated, the word “doctors” almost leaving his lips, “—the people who can fix him. Please. Let me take him.”

Izuku’s body trembled; the quiet command in his Papa’s voice pulled at something raw and obedient. He tightened the wing once more around Shouta, then, with an effort that felt like tearing himself in two, slowly loosened his grip and looked up to nod.

“Everything will be fine, Izuku. I promise,” Hizashi murmured as he gathered Shouta into his arms. His voice was gentle—too gentle—and it cracked faintly at the edges. “Are you hurt?”

“Already healed,” Izuku replied, tone flat, distant. The words came automatically, mechanical. He could feel it—the slow slide of emotion draining out of him, everything locking back into place where it was safe. 

Hizashi noticed; Izuku could feel it in the faint tightening of his jaw, the flicker of grief in his eyes. But Papa didn’t comment.

“Alright,” Hizashi said after a breath. His voice wavered for just a heartbeat before he straightened, switching back into command mode. “I want you to go see Recovery Girl for a check-up. If she says you’re fine, you go home—wash up, change clothes. Eat something. Then rest. Sleep if you can. Hitoshi will stay with you until I get there. As soon as Shouta’s cleared for visitors, I’ll take you both to see him. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” The answer came without hesitation. A soldier’s reply.

Izuku didn’t miss the way Hizashi flinched, just barely, at the words. But Papa only reached out and placed a hand on his head, fingers warm and trembling faintly. The gesture was soft, almost desperate.

“Then go,” Hizashi said quietly. “I’ll take care of your Dad.”

Izuku nodded once and stepped back, watching as Hizashi adjusted Shouta in his arms and sprinted toward the exit. The sound of his retreating footsteps mingled with the chaos of heroes flooding into the USJ—voices shouting, villains being restrained, the metallic tang of blood still thick in the air.

All Might was there too, standing amid the wreckage, his gaze heavy and unreadable as it followed Izuku. The boy didn’t look back. He turned toward the shattered entrance, expression blank, wings dragging slightly behind him as he walked.

He had new orders now.
And he would follow them.

Because he was a good boy, and good boys obeyed orders.