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1. Izuku
Izuku is 5 years old, full of energy and apple juice, and he's boooooored.
It's been hours (about 10 minutes) since his mom has gone in for her appointment with the strange woman (long distance relationship counsellor, whatever that means) and he's exhausted all the brightly coloured, designed-not-to-be-a-choking-hazard toys in the quiet waiting room.
He’d tried reading one of the magazines, but the font was so small his eyes began to ache, and besides, none of them were about heroes!
They were all relationship related, and he quickly became disinterested after the 5th quiz about love languages. New hero merch, duh. Next question.
Eventually he resorted to fidgeting on the couch, bouncing in place.
He swung his legs, growing more and more frustrated when the itchy upholstery scratched at his skin.
Aha! Now that was a problem he could fix!
Quickly, he gathered as many of the nicer, less scratchy cushions as he could hold and went about his latest Task™: making the most comfortable fort.
The receptionist his mom had asked to keep an eye on him raised a single violet brow, but seeing he wasn't breaking anything, or choking on a toy, diverted their gaze back to their computer screen.
After a good few hours of work (once again, 10 minutes) he finished the walls, and in the centre space, stacked a few cushions to make a throne, turning to place the final one.
…
There were no cushions left.
“Foiled again,” he whispered, because that's what All Might had said when villains had stopped his plans to defeat them in the movie Izuku had watched last week.
He vaguely registered the receptionist snort in amusement, too busy thinking over how to overcome this unexpected obstacle to pay any attention.
The throne would collapse without a base cushion, and an attempt to reposition the existing ones quickly proved that wouldn't work either, so…he’d have to find another one.
Determined, he checked under all the couches to see if any had fallen under, sneezing disappointedly when all he discovered were dust bunnies.
Wait! What was that shape he could barely make out at the back?! There was something there!
Izuku shoved his arm so fast under the couch he almost gave himself carpet burn, straining, reaching…
It was another gosh darn magazine!
Ready to pull his hair out, Izuku angrily added it to the stack, he’d already alphabetised, making sure the corners were in line with the rest before beginning to pace, surveying the facts.
Cushions were in the waiting room. This waiting room had no cushions left.
Solution?
Find another waiting room, find more cushions.
“Boom,” he whispered, knowing now what needed to be done in that endearing (and more than slightly frustrating) leap of logic characteristic of most young children.
Silently, Izuku crawled along the floor along the wall and out of the door, careful to stay out of the receptionist's lavender line of sight.
All he needed was a map, and he’d be back before anybody knew it.
Craning his neck, he scanned the halls ahead as he wandered around, coming across the odd person and ducking out of sight behind stray chairs, or on one occasion, an elderly patient so focused on walking they didn't notice him trailing their slower steps.
The signboards were way bigger than the magazine, so it was much easier for him to read one when he came across it entitled, “In patient wing”.
His eyes hastily scanned the layout, losing their shine of hope, lip wobbling despairing when there wasn’t another waiting room marked on it.
But…there was a “Patient lounge room” and a lounge room was basically a waiting room, right? They both had sofas so… cushions!
He memorised the path (right, left, left) then sped down the halls, goal in sight.
As he stepped through the archway into the cosy-looking space with sofas galore, each lined with soft looking throws, the temperature immediately dropped a few degrees.
His arms felt cold; gooseflesh rose along them except for the patch of skin on his elbow where he’d burned it on the carpet, but a quick glance around the empty room didn't reveal a source for the sudden change - the AC was set to room temperature.
Shivering slightly, Izuku jumped up and checked each arm chair, crestfallen at the discovery as they one after the other revealed themselves to be empty of all riches worth plundering: cushionless.
Shoulders slumped and hope lost of ever creating a throne, he was just turning to leave when-
“Ahhh!” his shriek of surprise was met with a soft gasp as he bumped into somebody's legs.
She’d emerged from a little alcove, explaining why neither of them had noticed the other Izuku quickly realised as the temperature seemed to drop even further, and he briefly wondered if it had something to do with her quirk.
“Uh, I'm really sorry, miss,” he squeaked out an apology, looking up at her.
She was quite pretty, with silky silver hair and fine boned features, but her skin held an exhausted pallor accompanied by bruise-blue dark circles, leaving the overall impression of someone who hadn’t slept well in a long time.
“I-I know I'm probably not meant to be here, uh, actually I'm definitely not meant to be here because my mom said to stay in the waiting room but I thought if I was really fast nobody would mind- oh no! Are you alright, miss! Why are you crying? Did I hurt you?”
The woman clasped a hand over her mouth, and backed away, like a cornered animal.
Tears streamed from her shocked gray eyes, and her shoulders shook with silent sobs.
With the way panic was written into every line of her body, her demeanour reminded Izuku of the time he'd found a kitten in a box at the park; it was overwhelmingly the only thing he found reminiscent as he scrambled to make sense of the situation.
So he tried to replicate his mom’s actions from that incident, hoping it would translate his harmless intentions.
Slowly, he hung his hands loosely at his sides, speaking in his calmest adult voice, “I'm sorry I scared you. I promise I'm not going to hurt you. I can leave if it makes you feel better.”
She stopped backing away, his words appearing to have some effect as she swiped her face with her sleeve.
She still eyed him with caution, however.
“I'm going to step back now, okay?”
A hesitant nod.
Izuku took a step back. Then another. The woman relaxed infinitesimally with each movement.
His eyes darted across the room, until they landed on a vase on a window sill, sparking an idea, and, making his intentions clear, he walked over and plucked out a delicate white rose.
“Would you like a flower? My moms perfume smells like roses, and hugging her always makes me feel better when I'm sad, so this is like a mini hug if you don't want to touch anyone.”
Mini hugs were something he had to replicate more and more these days. Kacchan was determined to be the strongest, the toughest, the best. The Number 1. hero.
And while his conviction was something Izuku found inspiring, a bright flame of passion, with every praise he received for his powerful quirk he refused every concern even more.
Scrapes and bruises went unkissed, shoving away Auntie Mitsuki’s every worried-yet-harsh attempt at smothering, and god forbid Izuku tried to help him up after a fall, nevermind that he could see the tears filling his eyes, hear the way his voice wobbled slightly.
So he’d learned to help in other ways.
Affirmations. Silent exchanges of plasters and bento boxes.
Never hugs though. Not anymore.
Not since he’d explained what the word Quirkless meant for him.
Either way, he could see this woman was another one of those people, where a hug and a kiss wouldn’t help, like it did for Izuku when his mom tried to cheer him up.
She seemed almost…apprehensive of him, aware of his every movement. So no, that wasn't what she needed.
Then, a dry, course voice, like it hadn’t been used in months,
“I don’t deserve-”
“Yes you do, everyone deserves some kind of hug when they’re sad!” Izuku cut in firmly, rolling the flower across the room, praying it wouldn’t snap in doing so.
It was after this that he felt bad for interrupting her so suddenly, and kicked himself internally for being so rude.
He didn’t want to startle her even further by raising his voice (he unconsciously sensed there must be a reason she spoke so quietly, and he tried to mirror it), but couldn’t bring himself to regret it.
Not when he could tell the tears springing up in the woman's eyes again were grateful, when she carefully picked up the rose by the stem, taking a long moment to enjoy the scent.
Her breathing was slower now, and at the back of his mind Izuku idly registered that the temperature of the room was almost back to normal.
Something to puzzle over later, maybe, but right now, it was time for him to go.
“I really am sorry for surprising you, Miss” he bowed his head in apology, scratching his neck sheepishly.
“I swear, I was just building a fort! And I need a cushion to finish the throne but I couldn't find any more so I thought there might be one here so I came to look but there wasn't so I should just go back,” he explained, all in one breath.
The woman’s eyes saddened again, eyebrows furrowing, and he worried he’d said something wrong, but it was a different kind of sad than before, like an old pain that had resurfaced rather than an immediate hurt. Like how when Izuku forgot he had a bruise and accidentally pressed it.
She held up a finger, apparently done talking for now, and slipped out of the room.
Izuku was confused for a moment, wondering if he should follow her, before she returned with the rose tucked behind her ear, and a fluffy white pillow in hand.
Silently, she rolled it across the room to him, mirroring their exchange from before, and he hefted it into his arms with some effort, clutching it to his torso with both arms.
Just over the top, he managed to smile in appreciation, “Thank you for the cushion! Now I can make the best throne ever!”
He smiled wider when he received the smallest nod back.
Mission fulfilled, Izuku headed back to the waiting room, only getting lost once, ready to finish the best gosh darn fort he’d ever made.
***
2. Rei
It takes a week before the shock starts to wear off.
Before the memory of the little boy and his joyful, youthful, face don't bring forth the visage of her own precious son.
She misses Shouto like a physical ache, like the part of her heart dedicated to her children has been cleaved clean off in the months since she’d seen them.
Sometimes, Rei manages to squash the debilitating ache down, to breathe through it like just another of countless strikes to the face.
Most of the time however, she can't.
Most of the time, it renders her unable to leave her bed, limbs drained of all energy in the battle to breathe.
(She keeps a bag on her side table in case her nausea ever manifests into anything more than the dry heaves that will rack her body on occasion.)
Walking helps somewhat.
As do the breathing tactics her personal therapist taught her.
On days where Rei feels in-between worlds, she’ll wander the grounds, trying to convince her body it was attached to this plane.
It's on one of these days that she walked into - although maybe bumped straight into, is more accurate- the boy.
You've made some real progress in the past 6 months, Rei-san, her therapist had said at their last session.
'I think it's time to take the next step. You need to trust yourself more. I’ll give the go ahead to authorise communication from your children. If you choose so, some supervised sessions could really help you have confidence to believe that you’ve moved past that low point of your life.
I think you’re ready.'
No, no, no.
She wasn't ready.
She would never be ready to see the disappointment in Fuyumi and Natsuo's eyes, or the fear in Shouto's once more, even over a video call with the assurance they were far away from where she could hurt them.
If she could even recognise them.
She was absolutely terrified she'd be reduced back into that incapable mess she’d been, and see only the monster within their features, rather than the children - her children - that she’d come to love with all the heart she had.
It had been six months since Todoroki Rei had last seen her children, or indeed any children, which had probably contributed to the shock when she slipped back into what she had thought was an empty lounge room, hoping to avoid the other residents, only to be met with the little boy.
For one heartbreaking second, she’d been blindsided by the small build, the cling of baby fat to rosy cheeks as he cried out in surprise, and for a split second saw Shouto, saw that kitchen before reality had come crashing down.
Even if Shouto had somehow managed to escape the tight security of the mansion, he’d never come here.
He’d never want to see her again - god, Rei barely wanted to see herself sometimes.
But the boy kept talking and smiling and the cloying scent of the rose he gave her took her away from the sights and sounds of the memory she'd been thrust into.
Ironically enough, the flower helped to ground her.
It made sense to hang onto the peace it had brought her, even if it had been momentary.
So, taking out the notebook she’d been given by her therapist (in the hopes it might be easier to write about her feelings than talk about them - she’d never found much use for it) Rei carefully pressed the rose between its pages.
She thinks…she might actually be ready to feel more of the same relief.
She hadn’t been able to trust herself to act rationally.
But now that she has hard proof she can at least listen, if not speak, she’s been reminded of just how alone she feels.
How much she wants to see them.
Maybe she’ll start small, just a phone call with Fuyumi, but Rei is feeling more and more ready to see her children again.
***
The next time she sees the boy, another 6 months have passed.
He’s taller, his face less round, but it would be hard to forget his distinguishable head of dark curls.
She’s taking a walk of the gardens near the entrance when what must be his mother leaves him on the bench outside the reception.
She takes a sharp inhale.
Her therapist would say now would be another opportunity for her to grow her confidence.
And from what Rei had gathered from her and Fuyumi’s fortnightly video calls, her daughter would say the same.
It had taken quite some time to regrow their connection. Time to forgive, even longer to forget.
Her calls with Natsuo were still stilted too, full of awkward pauses and lines of conversation that avoided what they both really wanted to say.
The routine they had now was far from the relationships they had before the incident, but it was something. They’d built it back up by hand from scratch, with sweat and tears.
Her older children would encourage her to take whatever steps she could to recovery, she knew it.
But saying something and doing something were different things. Despite all she’d learnt the past year, a hesitance still lingered in her movements, deep within her bones.
But when she saw the boy cry out in pain, it felt like the decision was made for her.
With a sharp exhale this time, she cautiously approached.
An angry looking mark broke the smooth skin of his arm, otherwise uninterrupted apart from the freckles that dotted his shoulders, and tearfully, he swatted the bee responsible for it away.
“Are you… okay?” she asked a little awkwardly, clearing her throat. Talking to someone apart from her children and the staff was a little bit of a novelty. A terrifying novelty.
His voice cracks as he lets out a little whine, shaking his head. A few tears slip loose, and he sniffles.
She sits a decent distance away, then motions to the arm he’s favouring.
“Can I help?”
Hesitation is clear in his eyes, but when he looks up at her face recognition flashes across his expression then a series of different emotions too fast for her to register, mouth finally coming to form a little ‘o’.
“You’re- you're the lady that gave me a pillow!” He exclaims, before immediately falling silent.
After a few seconds, he extends his arm to let her examine the sting.
“Are you allergic to bee venom?”
A shake of the head, and his little curls bounce adorably with the movement, almost tugging a smile to her lips.
Okay. She knows what she needs to do.
Taking her pass card, she warns, “This might hurt a little, but I need to get the stinger out,” then uses the stiff plastic to dig it out.
A soft gasp of pain, filling her with sympathy, and before she realises it, Rei presses a cold hand to the mark.
He sighs relievedly, and with the pain goes any shyness the boy might have had earlier.
“Is that your quirk? I thought it might be something to do with temperature manipulation after last time but I wasn’t sure. That's so cool!” he blushes in embarrassment. “Uh, I didn't mean that literally, I meant, it was very amazing, I feel much better now. My name is Izuku, I think quirks are very cool. Sorry! I did it again. How does your control work? Do you accelerate the transfer of thermal energy from substances, or are you reducing the kinetic energy of the particles of whatever you use your quirk on? If the former, could you do the reverse and transfer heat from yourself to something else? Are you-
He shuts his mouth very deliberately, staring at the ground intensely. “I'm sorry. My mom says it's rude to ask too many questions.”
Rei can’t help it - she blinks, slightly taken aback by the onslaught of unexpectedly technical queries, and chuckles, surprising even herself.
(When was the last time she laughed?)
She’d almost forgotten how curious children were. She feels a pang of something at the thought.
Shouto had loved asking questions. She thinks he and this boy - Izuku - would get along.
“My quirk is called frost,” she decides on, calling a little ice to her fingers to demonstrate.
If possible, the boy's eyes grow even wider, absolutely sparkling.
“Woahhhhhhhhhhhh-
“Izuku!” the boy's mother emerges from the reception just then, squinting against the glare until she spots their bench and hurries over. “It’s time to go now.”
His tiny shoulders sag with disappointment.
“But mom, I was just talking to, uh,
“Rei,” she offers.
“Rei-san about her quirk! A bee stung me but I feel better now, after she helped, look!”
It was true - the swelling had gone down.
Though it would probably be for the best if he went home and put on some ointment for it.
“Oh! Thank you, Rei-san,” the woman gave a little bow.
Her face held the exact same innocence to its features as her son. In fact, the resemblance between them was striking - hair just shades apart in colour, identical mint-green eyes.
“Sorry for disturbing you, but Izuku and I really have to get going now. Thank you again.”
She nodded, slightly overwhelmed by the praise.
Of course she’d helped; patching up her children's wounds was what Rei had spent the better part of a decade doing, and it was more than a little odd to receive recognition for what had become second nature.
“Bye Rei-san!” Izuku waved, practically vibrating from the force of the movement, as his mother led him away by the wrist.
“Thank you!”
This time, a gentle laugh practically forced itself from her throat as she waved back.
***
+1. Shouto
Deep breathes.
In.
Out.
The familiar weight of Izuku's hand in his helps to ground Shouto to the train they’re in, just a stop away from their destination.
Izuku squeezes his hand and Shouto can tell he’s wracked by the same nervous jitters.
After all, it's not everyday that Shouto introduces his boyfriend to his mother.
The carriage comes to a halt all too soon as they step out to the crowded platform, hands still intertwined as they step into a nearby florist’s.
It’s more a hole in the wall type of establishment than somewhere offering professionally perfected bouquets, but Izuku picks it after being drawn in by the delicate, colourful displays almost bursting out of the shop, the ivy bedecked awning barely managing to cover it all.
“First impressions matter,” Izuku insists after he spends half an hour studiously deciding between two near identical arrangements.
His nose is scrunched up so adorably in concentration, Shouto can’t stop the affection from showing itself on his face in the form of a smile.
It’s painfully new for him, to be so open with his emotions. For so long he’d had it drilled into him that they were a weakness, and even now that same thought crosses his mind.
(Heroes don’t cry, is what Endeavor would say.)
But Izuku has shown him they can be your biggest strength, too.
(It’s thanks to him that Shouto knows heroes do cry, when they're tired, or worried, or if they see a cat that's just too cute.)
It is Izuku who has shown him how it is his emotions: his fear, and love, and sheer determination that drives him to be the hero he is.
And with him, Shouto felt safe enough to try, too.
“Don't worry then. I've already explained how you’re All Might's secret love child.” he said, however, because he can’t miss an opportunity to tease a flush to Izuku’s face.
“Shouto!'' Izuku whipped around, a panicked look in his eyes, tell-tale blush already tinting his cheeks.
“Please don't tell me you actually explained that god-awful conspiracy theory to your mother! This is terrible! She’ll think I'm trying to sabotage your chances of becoming a hero by distracting you by dating you as revenge for Endeavor’s rivalry with my so-called dad and she’ll forbid me from seeing you and then I'll die alone- Shouto!”
Izuku had cut himself off seeing the small smirk on his face, realising he was joking and promptly delivered a light smack to Shouto’s arm, which honestly, he deserved.
He didn’t regret it, however. Already, the crease to Izuku’s brow had smoothened out, a little less stressed.
“I'm sorry, I’m sorry,” he acquiesced, drawing Izuku further away from his crisis to take one of his hands again.
“Her actual first impression of you is when you…saved me, at the Sports Festival. As the person who finally convinced me to get my head out of the ground and start to repair our relationship.
Second impressions don't matter so much when we’re both already so grateful to you. I think, if you’re just yourself, it will be enough.”
“Oh, “ Izuku said, blinking rapidly. “Okay, I-
Quickly, his eyes darted to the left, then the right, ensuring they were safely touched out of sight behind a display, and then leaned up on his tiptoes to place a kiss to the corner of Shouto’s mouth, still mindful that they were still in public, before blushing deeply.
“Thank you, Shouto. Was that okay? I didn't want to be too forward, but uh, you just looked really cute then, but if-
“That was more than okay,” Shouto said, feeling his own blush and desperately activating his right side to at least pretend to maintain the illusion he wouldn’t do anything, anything at all for Izuku just then.
“I think I'll just go with the second bouquet, then.” Izuku said, taking it to the counter.
“And I'm sure she’ll love it,” Shouto affirmed as they relinked hands.
***
Okay, the moment of truth.
Knocking to announce their presence, Shouto stepped in first at his mothers “Come in!”
“Hello, Shouto,” she greeted warmly, wrapping him into a hug that smelled of sandalwood shampoo and fresh cotton.
“Hello, mom. How have you been?”
She smiled serenely, and sat back down. “Well. How about you?”
“I've been doing good, thank you.”
He took a breath.
“Do you remember last week how I said I'd bring a friend along this time? This is Midoriya Izuku, my boyfriend. Izuku, this is-
“Rei-san?!” Izuku stepped into the room, eyes widening impossibly, brows immediately disappearing into his fringe as he finished Shouto’s sentence for him, turning to his mother.
His mother’s brows knitted for a moment, before they smoothed out to an even warmer smile.
“Ah, Izuku, was it? I remember now.”
What.
Shouto’s mind just straight up blanked for a moment before he recovered, blinking hard to ensure what he was seeing was real.
“The two of you know each other?” he asked somewhat incredulously.
“Well, I wouldn't say ‘know’ know, maybe more acquaintanced-
“You could say I've bumped into Izuku-kun a few times around the facility, yes.” his mother answered at the same time, bringing a hand up to hide her amusement.
“Sorry for my impoliteness, Rei-san,” Izuku apologised, snapping into a bow, sweating bullets.
“Please take these flowers, as a gift, and allow me to continue seeing your son.”
Rei stepped forth, motioning for him to rise from his bow and taking the flowers.
She took a long inhale.
“Thank you for the beautiful white roses. They’re just as lovely as the first one you gave me.”
At this, Izuku’s whole body relaxed, and although Shouto had no idea what was going on, he could read between the lines enough (sort of) to feel the pleasant atmosphere of the room.
There’d be time for explanations later, he supposed.
But for now, he was just glad to be with two of the people he loved most.