Chapter Text
Sixteen was when people stopped looking with pity and started with the contempt. Couldn’t really blame them but couldn’t blame himself either. Life was shit. There were people that got it less and people that gave it to others, which was why he saw the only possible change in crossing that bridge and be the one that gave, for once. He did have the perfect target in mind.
Bringing down the number two hero, though, asked for a whole group of villains and at least three with a functional brain. He’d yet to meet someone good enough. He’d also yet to meet anyone that would listen, because he was a teenager full of anger and hatred and far from a leader any criminal would follow. That was why, instead of creating a group out of nothing, he started searching for one.
There were many around town, small or less small, because villains were getting very scared of Sora and the new Agency. He understood, the rumours about a shadow descending on any that tried crimes slightly inching towards kidnapping and/or hurting others was solid. He’d seen it once. A new hero had basically swept in just when a man had been about to jump a woman in the streets – he hated how these people got, sometimes, hearing and seeing what they did in dark corners. He refused to stoop so low.
People on the opposite side of the law were wary, weak and terrified, it was hard to find someone with the guts to go against heroes nowadays. Not that he wanted to go against Sora, he wasn’t interested in that hero, he respected the man in a way, as he did All Might, if maybe a bit less. No, if he had to go for someone, he wanted Endeavour, and even if he was the less liked hero among heroes, he still had help and an Agency backing him up, so he decided to lay in wait, thieving where he could get away with it and surviving in the districts where people eyed him less.
He was rewarded.
He wasn’t expecting a group of villains to target Sora, of all heroes, and he was shocked for days when they managed to unmask him – he was scrawny and looked awfully unharmful and he had kids and was married and he was a father–
They called themselves the League of Villains. The name made him roll his eyes but, if they had gone so far to just unmask Sora – there was obviously a plan –, then they would target someone higher at some point… higher in the list of strongest hero, not the most-to-least liked hero list. He was pretty sure Sora was placed high there, if not the first. He’d gotten his hands on a phone, he’d read articles and forums and communities. They’d left a sour taste in his mouth.
He didn’t need to search the villains out, they came to him.
“People say you have a vengeance against heroes.”
Touya absently nodded, teeth closed around the plastic rim of his empty glass. The music of the bar past the wall he was leaning against had dimmed, so late in the night, and the crowd was dispersing in their private corners to sleep away drugs and alcohol. He liked the latter, disliked the former’s effects. Lucky him, no one asked badges around these parts and drunkards were easy thieving targets.
“Why?”
He pursed his lips, scars itching and pulling at his skin. That was a pretty personal question. Which begged, why was this man asking, in the first place? What were his interests? He slowly lifted his gaze from the ants’ lines running over garbage and eyed the man. He assumed that was a man, anyway, with black flame-like mist covering the unclothed parts of his body. He wondered why someone would wear such formal clothing, then discarded the useless curiosity.
He grabbed the plastic glass and threw it up to catch it back in the other hand, “who’s asking?”
The man didn’t move, hands still in the pants’ pockets. “The League.”
That made him pause. The League. Quite a name with the fame. Why would a group with such growing power search him out? Lucky him, or unlucky him?
“I want a hero down, that’s why.”
“Ah,” the man tilted his head, “it’s personal. I see. And would bringing down other heroes on the way to yours be acceptable, for you?”
No, it wouldn’t. Especially if it included Sora or All Might. He respected them, liked what they did… uh, maybe he liked Sora more, he didn’t like obnoxiousness much.
At the same time, he wanted a way out from what his life had become. And an open path leading to Endeavour hurting in some way sounded golden…
He let his lips be pulled into a grin he knew scared shitless a lot of people. “The more,” for show, he lit up his hand around the plastic glass, letting the smelted material drip down to the floor, steaming and hissing, “the merrier.”
The man nodded. “My name’s Kurogiri.”
Touya would never give away his real name, it had too much luggage and too many links to the reasons why he wanted Endeavour in pain. “Dabi,” he said instead, biting his cheek at the memories that name brought… at times, he missed–
“Follow me,” Kurogiri said, turning around, “the Boss is waiting.”
Touya was… very unsure what to think about Shigaraki. He couldn’t say creepy, because he knew to be one of the creepiest persons around, what with his scars and the rumours he’d built around his personality, but the… the guy was off-putting. He talked to himself, got starry-eyed at a wall, scared the shit out of new recruits – he’d tried with Dabi, it simply hadn’t worked – and annoyed the shit out of Kurogiri. He wasn’t about to jump in the crossfire of those conversations, but he kind of pitied the self-appointed barman of their hideout.
He was glad to have a warm room, after three years of hitting the road. And meals. God he’d missed the home-cooking. Granted, Kurogiri cooked for them once a week at most and it wasn’t great, but it was something. And he could say goodbye to stealing to survive, but he often found himself pickpocketing out of boredom or without truly noticing. He’d picked up the habit, unlucky bystanders. At least he could bring more money for the food and drinks. Kurogiri was very good at mixing.
His job in the League was to wait, for the first few months. They had orders, apparently, to let the whole Sora identity ruckus die down – it was massive still. He got to laze around the bar, help when bored, walk the streets if he wanted. Neither Kurogiri nor Shigaraki, who were the only ones constantly there, asked for or prodded him. Shigaraki was kind of nosy, but only when he was overly happy, which Touya couldn’t predict, else he would flee the place each time. The guy was insufferable.
Bored out of his mind and trying to hide away from his stewing anger, he redirected his attention towards selecting who to pickpocket and who not to. He targeted wealthier and scummier, steadily got a sum of money on the side. He considered decorating his room, once, but discarded the idea when he thought about living there long-term. No, thank you. He still wasn’t sure if he was willing to go against Sora, even if it seemed that the League had its eyes on All Might. Their vendetta seemed worse than his own.
Five months after joining them, Touya almost walked into a hero operation to disrupt a budging group of kidnappers – idiots, really, even Yakuza had completely lost interest in that activity, it was like asking to be arrested through a letter sent to Sora’s Agency. He carefully turned around and walked away, which was good and spelled “disaster dodged.”
But then he had to stop when someone dropped right in front of him.
Touya froze.
He could recognize that get up anywhere. It had been on televisions for too long.
“Hello.”
He swallowed, trying and almost failing to put up his feral grin and to keep the relaxed stance. “Hullo.”
“It’s a bit late to be around, don’t you think?”
Those golden eyes shining in the darkness of the hood were downright terrifying. He’d heard tales, rumours and made-up stories, but having a slight grasp of the truth and being confronted with it were two different stories. His stomach turned.
“I’m heading home.” He inwardly cheered at how steady his voice seemed.
The hero tilted his head, a short, slow movement that made Touya want to flee. What the flipping fuck.
“Have you had dinner?”
Touya, despite himself, gaped. And his stomach decided to betray him at the images of food conjured in his mind… or it was because of the tension, he wasn’t sure.
“No, of course you haven’t, me neither. What would you say to finger food? Shiro told me about a place not far from here, he says their fries are delicious and they’ve got some acceptable slices of pizza, come on.”
At the mention of pizza, Touya was hung. His self-preservation instinct got his brain into cogging, but what was he to do? This was Sora, he had no absolute chance of leaving him in the dust or convincing him to let him go, seeing his tongue had gotten tied without his noticing, damn it. The hero stopped shy of the end of the alley, where a main road intersected it, and tugged his hood off, shedding it away completely and freeing a blue, snuggly-looking shirt.
“Come on, it’s on me. Free food,” he grinned.
… well, he’d never say no to free food. Touya stepped next to him and let him lead, carefully watching where they were headed. Seemed to be out of his district and into a slightly better one.
“My son always brags about the place,” he hummed, smiling and looking forward. “Junk food is his favourite, he says, but his brother told me it’s not true.”
Touya wasn’t very much in for conversation, but he knew he was not going to survive this – whatever this was – without humouring the hero. “Why?”
“Oh, well,” the hero blushed, “they say my cooking is better… I don’t think it’s that true.”
“You… cook?”
“Yup, got a family to feed, and my husband would eat take-out every other day, which isn’t healthy.”
Family. Touya forgot his terror and anger simmered low in his stomach.
“At times he forgets to eat, you know?” The hero turned left and nodded at an open pub which had a 24/7 neon board on. “And I have to force him into sleeping.”
He frowned, anger suddenly unimportant in the face of the question: how does one not sleep?
“In his defence, he has a night job and a day job. His schedule is all over the place.”
… He’d asked that out loud, shite. “Eraserhead.”
“Uhm-hm… To think ichigo wants to do the same… Who’s going to watch his sleeping schedule? And he wants to move out soon, too… I really wish he finds someone to take care of him.”
They entered the mostly empty and lit pub, a sleepy waitress led them to a corner table and the hero ordered for them both… quite a lot of food. Thinking about it, he was hungry, and it was free food, so he just went with it, slouching in the red-leathered seat.
“I guess you know my name?”
The only downside to their new position was that he was subjected to the golden gaze again. “I forgot it,” it was a blatant lie but it wasn’t like the other could know.
Golden eyes crinkled in amusement. “Tsuna. Can I have yours?”
“… no.”
The hero laughed. He laughed. Sora laughed.
The waitress brought them three servings of fries, which the brunet pushed to him. “Eat, come on,” he smiled, leaning his chin on his open palm. “I know you’re hungry.”
That was not the problem, neither that he didn’t trust his food to be clear of poisons – Sora just wouldn’t, it was more likely a Shigaraki thing though. No, the problem was he couldn’t understand what the hero wanted to gain by buying him food. There always was something they wanted. He knew from first experience.
Streets had also taught him to not beat around the bush.
So, he pushed one serving towards the hero, “as you are, you haven’t had dinner,” and let the delicious scent fill his nostrils while keeping his gaze on him, “what do you want from me?”
Sora, to his credit, simply shrugged instead of playing dumb. “I’m not used to let a teenager wander about during the night, in such a district. But I guess you aren’t new there, so you know how to survive, in a sense,” he frowned, popping a fry in his mouth and munching slowly. “I worry, that’s all, and closing my eyes isn’t my style, so I dropped by to say hi.” The hero hummed, “sorry if I stole you from something, I… forget to think about that, at times.”
Touya blinked twice, feeling out of his depth. He had no problem believing him, because, even if it was known that he had unofficially joined the League, it was also information that people kept close to their chests. Of course, someone might have tattled, but at that point they would have spoken about their hideout and be dead. Shigaraki was that ruthless. No, he didn’t believe Sora was out for him to get to the League. Touya… almost believed that the hero was genuinely worried. He had such a reputation. Still, he didn’t lower his guard and started eating, shocked when the fries melted on his tongue. They were good. He wanted to know what else that Shiro guy – son of Sora – could recommend.
“I was just going back,” he finally answered. “Saw the fight, decided to take another way.”
“Very smart,” Sora thanked the waitress when the five slices of pizza were delivered, “those guys were trying to set up a fighting ring. Not my field of focus until they had the nice idea of kidnapping children. Not on my watch.”
He wanted to finish the fries first. “Yeah, people ‘round here don’t do that anymore. Guess they were outsiders.”
“Unfortunately… which means I’ll have to get in contact with heroes over there, check if there’s something to stop,” he sighed, playing with the remaining fries in his serving, “it never ends.” He… looked… sad.
Not fitting at all.
“But it’s better,” Touya said, feigning disinterest, “I mean, outsiders aside… there’s crime but not just for the sake of it…” He sounded like an idiot, he should stop. “There’s people that steal to survive,” he thanked his scars because he was blushing, “but I noticed the difference, you know… They feel… safe.”
Touya chanced a look up and regretted it immediately – Sora was smiling. Not– not that smile people did to make you feel ok or to show pity. It was a warm smile, a soft smile and something in him cracked but–
“You’re right,” he whispered, fingering the pizza to check it wasn’t hot and blissfully taking the attention off him, “I’m thankful. Thinking about the situation before…” His gaze got lost, somehow, not anymore focused on the bitten, folded slice of pizza. “It’s been a long way since,” Sora’s smile turned nostalgic, but he suddenly pursed his lips and shrugged again, “who knew I was going to marry– ah… we forgot to celebrate it…” He palmed his face with a groan. “We always forget,” he whined.
Touya blinked, “well… it happens? I can’t remember birthdays.”
Sora sighed, “not our anniversary… the wedding.”
He paused, “huh?”
“We didn’t celebrate the wedding, we just… married! In the living room! And we haven’t…. We forgot to hold a party and some of our friends are still waiting for it.”
“… oh.”
The hero wailed, massaging the spot between his eyebrows. “I have to do something about it, Shouta is worse than me at this…”
… how had a brawl between villains and heroes turned into… this? “Well, you can… do something small? I mean, how many friends do you have?”
Sora held up one hand, silently started counting. His face fell as he restarted at the five-point… Touya lost count very soon.
“Too many. I can get away with not inviting my colleagues, they mostly don’t want to be involved, but Shouta’s colleagues? Nemuri would have my head and Hizashi would scream my ears off. Nao-kun comes, even if I have to drag him, and I think I can skip Mitsuki and Inko, but not their sons or my sons would riot. My former Boss demands to come, Tamakawa is shy but on the same page. Uhm,” he tapped his chin, “maybe my former neighbours, I have to drop by, next week I should have a few hours on Friday.”
As Touya listened, he slowly chewed on his pizza slice, blinking at how complex the private life of a hero could be. Frankly, he had only one example, and it was an insult to compare Sora to him, so he stopped the thought before it could be born. Even if he had seen a hero in a private setting, he’d never imagined other heroes having private lives. Sora seemed to be quite busy outside of his suit.
“Ah, but there’s that problem,” he groaned, chomping on his food, “couldn’t have they slept a bit more? No, of course, and I’m going to make it my issue…” Sora pursed his lips with a scowl. “It’s important, I know it is… I know it’s going to… make a difference, but has it to be me?”
Touya almost gaped, “you?”
Sora flinched, “sorry, I… I don’t mean I don’t want to help, but taking up more cases means being away from home even more time. It… weighs on my family. I don’t like it.”
“… do you make time for them?”
“I,” he paused, “I try?”
“What do you do? Together.”
“Well,” he lifted one finger to count, “we have movie night, once a week. I cook when I’m home, unless I’m too tired. We train often, if that,” he shrugged, “is ok as time spent together. I helped Ichigo with his homework, and Hitoshi for a while, but now he’s the big brother and has taken that up.” Sora smiled, soft and warm. “They’ve grown up so much…”
It hurt. Touya had to stop this. And he had to with another thing that hurt.
“I think you’re doing fine. Better than other pro heroes anyway.” He bit his inner cheek. “I know of one that–” Shit, couldn’t say that. “That only… trains his kids, nothing more… affectionate.”
Sora’s eyes gleamed. The waitress brought over two coffees. He didn’t know when or who had asked her.
“I don’t know,” he slowly answered, cradling his cup. “I still think it’s barely enough. We really should think about going away for some days. A vacation. The Agency has taken a good hold by now, it’d be in good hands… maybe next time they have school-free days.”
“Sounds good,” Touya finished his coffee and made a show to check the clock hanging on the red wall, “I should really get going.”
“Ok.” Sora stood, basically disappearing from the table to really take up paying.
He sighed, feeling aggravated. He could pay his things! … With others’ money… Ok, better let a hero pay up if said hero had eaten with him, especially if he had stolen money in his pockets.
Touya sent a wave towards the sleepy waitress and went to wait outside. The air was crisp and the wind had picked up. He really wanted to hide under a warm duvet, but someone had destroyed it.
“Who spat in your coffee?”
He gulped, “just remembered something,” he grumbled, looking around. “Thank you for dinner, it was good.”
“My son has good tastes,” Sora grinned, “and I offered, so no need to thank me. Are you ok on your own? I don’t want to offend your independency.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m past that phase, but I live nearby, don’t worry.”
“Ok!” The man quipped, “I’ll be going then, have a good night!”
“’night.”
Touya eyed the shadow jumping on a roof and vanishing in the night. He sighed, scratching his nape. That was such a strange evening. He decided to go back and sleep on it.
“What the absolute fuck,” Touya growled, hands ablaze, “are you doing,” he tried his best to not burn down everything around him and especially his own skin, “in my room.”
Shigaraki rolled his eyes, “not yours, Da-bi.” His tongue peeked through his chapped lips in mockery. “Come down, new recruits.”
And when had that ever interested him in the slightest?! The annoying piece of shit slithered out the door, that Touya definitely slammed shut. He heard laughing, but all that mattered to him was to calm down his beating heart, his haggard breaths and his panicked trembling.
There was one thing, only one, that had brought him safety in all his life: having a safe corner. His bedroom, his alcove, where not even that hero had ever gotten in. He couldn’t have it invaded, not back then, not in that exact moment. It didn’t matter that it was temporary, it was his place, it had been given to him, he was going to get a damned lock.
He did the exercise that– that had been showed to him the first time he’d had a panic attack. He sat back down on his bed. He breathed in, deep, held it, breathed out, slow, gripped his knees. Again. Again. And again, until he was not wheezing anymore. He opened his eyes to the dim light seeping past the thick curtain over the small window. He was calm, but he had no whatsoever intention of joining the others for petty, useless introduction.
He silently wore his folded hoodie – the absolute fucker had barged in his room while he was half-naked! – and slid out of his room, through the short corridor and out of the building, sticking to the shadows. Only Kurogiri made a show to notice him, nodding as a greeting.
Breathing in the fresh air, Touya decided that breakfast sounded fantastic. He walked through the tides of people hurrying to their workplace. There were kids depressed at the idea of going to school. He could relate. His favourite place, so far, for breakfast was a small café that nearly no one knew. It was hidden at the end of an alley that very few ventured through. It was the most valuable pro of that place, a close second was the coffee. He liked his with a hint of milk and little sugar.
The bell chimed when he got inside. Coffee scent wafted to his nose. He sighed in contentment, took a seat at one of the three tables and welcomed his breakfast. He was a regular, there was no need to place his order. The coffee arrived after barely two minutes.
He was officially in heaven.
Touya slowly poured the milk in the cup, watching white melt into rich brown. He took the teaspoon and added a bit of sugar, then mixed it with another, fulfilled sigh. He let it sit, waiting for the temperature to drop a bit. He didn’t like scalding his tongue, else he wouldn’t taste it.
He cradled the cup, took in the scent with closed eyes. The bell chimed in front of him, but he didn’t want to break the spell–
“Oh, I thought I knew you.”
Touya didn’t freeze only because the coffee was warming him. He opened his eyes, looked at the brunet in front of the free seat at his table and sighed, this time in defeat.
“Good morning, Sora.” He heard the waiter gasp.
“Good morning,” the other smiled, “sorry, I won’t disturb you, I only wanted to check.” He waved at Touya and went to the door. “Have a good breakfast, but you should definitely eat something with that. Bye!”
The bell chimed again as the hero left. He eyed the waiter, who seemed very near fainting but still in the world of the awake. He put off the thinking, slowly sipped his coffee, enjoyed a bit more time in the silence and paid before leaving. He idly wondered if his next visit would be poisoned by a pushy waiter curious about Sora–
Touya brushed one hand down his face. Three weeks since their shared dinner. Barely a month. Either the hero was stalking him or he had a major case in the area, which sounded most likely, but with his luck… He wouldn’t take that bet.
He really was in the mood to steal things, but the thought of Sora lurking in the shadows of the morning was a very effective deterrent. He was also very curious about the reasons why the hero would linger around the district. From what he knew, civilians and villains alike had taken a habit of reporting human traffics and the likes, because it was better than to let it escalate and have a hero raid mining other businesses. The only villains who were downright fighting–
Touya froze mid-step, almost falling face-first on the asphalt. It couldn’t be. Sora could not know the League’s headquarter – if so that bar could be called – was in this zone. He couldn’t. There was absolutely no way. He’d seen how thorough Kurogiri was, both in protecting the place and choosing new recruits. Yes, Shigaraki was an ass and a child, but he was not that stupid…
But, at the same time, Sora was a wildcard. No one knew how he got information or how he was always fifty steps ahead of everyone. Some thought it was his quirk, some swore it was about hallucinations, no one truly knew about it– which was not the point! Sora had met him! Had offered him food, had talked to him, had spoken about his sons had checked on him– It was a bigass problem!
He was part of the League. Even if it didn’t mean he was loyal to it, neither he felt obligated to report about the meeting, it was too near to a betrayal for him to be safe living with them. Their meetings had happened in public, the news could reach Kurogiri any. Damn. Moment.
Fuck.
Touya had only one way out of this.
Well, bright side: he could escape without having to burst up in flames.
He should have expected this kind of stubbornness from Shigaraki. Maybe feigning being dead all over again had its perks, like not having a madman scouting the entire city for him. The entire Musutafu. It had come to the point he couldn’t even get out of the abandoned ruins of a building – that he’d been very lucky to find near a restaurant rather sloppy on not wasting food – because there were villains everywhere.
There was a perk, small one, thanks to the heroes catching one after the other just for loitering and scaring civilians. Amateurs. Made this whole accident a bit more bearable… if he could call it accident, considering he was hiding and rotting away in a damp, roof-less room full of ants. He had money right in his many, breaking pockets and he couldn’t use it or risk being taken. He would fight, of course, he had very little to lose anyway, but that little was his freedom, and he knew what being arrested would mean. Never, never would he return there.
But this didn’t ease the problem, he was slowly reaching the point of starvation after four months on the run. Touya could see his ribs, could feel the exhaustion creeping through his limbs, could only hope for rain to drink something. His time was running out. At this rate, he was going to die. He… didn’t dislike living. There still were things that he enjoyed, stealing, breakfast, fruits, sightseeing, sleeping, breathing… Breathing was nice. To fill his lungs, release the air out, make it puff in white smoke when it was too cold. Cold, he didn’t like, but didn’t hate either. Had to do with his quirk. Ha hated summer, for one. Showing skin. Burning sun. Burning… But he liked ice cream. Juicy. His favourite was wasabi. Cold that burned. Reminded him of–
It was most probably luck that made him dodge a broken piece of concrete that crashed the place where he’d been trying to sleep. Daylight was never a good time to roam for scraps. He turned to the wall, where a massive hole had just been kicked by a quite massive, bald woman. He didn’t recognize her, neither the smaller guy behind her with thick glasses, but didn’t need to. They were there for him, sent by Shigaraki the madman himself. And the guy was speaking at the phone. Great. Just great.
Ok… Ok. He needed a way out. He needed to clear his head, which was not so easy at the moment, but he tried. The woman was saying something he didn’t focus enough to hear. A bit too late, as she neared him, he saw that as his chance and took it.
Touya, in a movement that was much less fluid than he remembered, gathered his legs under himself and jumped backwards over the wall. His kick was too weak, he grazed his shoulders, but, with nothing more than a hiss and a stagger, he decided he couldn’t afford to wait to breathe. When he fell, feeling the shock in his weak legs, he dived to the side and ran. Just in time for another chunk of concrete and bricks to hit the spot where he’d landed. That was a shame. He’d started to like those damp walls.
His inner disappointment was soon replaced by panic. He tired as soon as he reached the corner. He was food-deprived, sleep-deprived and water-deprived. He was going to collapse. Very soon. Too soon. He needed to run and he couldn’t… Maybe he had a way out, a very, very dangerous way out, but it was something… Fuck.
The woman was shouting at him, and she was causing a ruckus because he had taken a main road in the middle of the day. It seemed his way out was also forced, at that point. He hadn’t given much attention to his direction.
He was going to deal with the fallout afterwards, meanwhile… where was it that people had seen those two? He’d checked it at night, to be sure it wasn’t too near his abandoned three-walls– one-wall building. The post office in front of him made him swiftly and blindly turn left. He almost knocked down a couple of kids, saving them by jumping over them and falling in a bruising roll. He took off as soon as his feet were planted on the sidewalk. He heard people calling out for him and them, calling for heroes. He hoped he would find the right ones before someone unwanted found him. His luck was shitty like that.
He stumbled on a broken tile, didn’t manage to keep his balance. He expected a nasty meeting with the floor, but he got instead a hug. A slightly breath-clogging hug. He pushed the person away and drank the air in, looking behind him to the woman–
“What’s going on here?”
Oh. He’d heard that voice. Touya turned to look at the guy who had saved him from face-planting and face-bruising. Yami.
Mission accomplished. Yay.
“Uh…. Kid’s been difficult,” she muttered, “was tryna runnin’way from home.”
“Yes, yes, good morning, we’re his parents, we want to bring him back.”
Yami’s hands were still closed around Touya’s arms. Why wasn’t that painful? Was he that skinny? He couldn’t focus. Everything was blurry.
“If you would follow,” another voice from a shorter hero, Memoire, caught their attention, “I’d suggest we check that you’re telling the truth, ma’am, sir.”
“Ah, no, no, no need, you see, he is just in a rebellious stage.”
“Yeah, kids run all’ta time.”
“Excuse me, ma’am, but our duty is to check. Your… son seems ill.”
Before the two could spew another terrible lie, Yami pushed Touya to Memoire. “Just call Sora, this stinks.”
“M’kay.”
He barely heard the dialling tune of a phone before everything went black.
The first thing he thought as he came to, was that his floor was not comfortable by any means. But he was literally laying on fluffy clouds in that moment, and he didn’t want it to end. In the haze of sleepiness, he went back to the beds of the house, remembering they were not so comfy, neither so warm. He felt… cocooned, sheltered, something that had never happened before. This thought tickled his mind, somehow. No one had ever protected him. Trained him, used him, spurned him towards greatness he was not interested in… There was always a second objective from people that helped, like–
Touya shot his eyes open, heart beating fast in his chest as memories came back to him. Trying to rest, being found by the two goons, running away, his half-standing, roofless, abandoned building, searching for–
He looked around, slowly and carefully sitting up. He was in a one-bed infirmary, it seemed, judging by the medicines’ cabinet and the papers-filled desk with an only chair. A window was open on the sunset, letting in a lazy breeze. The door on the other side of the room was closed and silent. Touya eyed his arms, noting there were tubes in the folds of his elbows linked to… nutrients? He wasn’t sure. But he’d found Memoire and Yami, right? This clearly was not a hospital, so it was Sora’s Agency? He tried looking past the window’s glass to see if he could recognize the neighbourhood from the tv news that stalked the building, but he either was too dazed or simply could not.
With a sigh, he noticed that he’d been changed out of his rags. Where his money was stashed. Great. Just great. He hoped they’d burned his clothes entirely or thrown them away, at least they wouldn’t know about his treasure and ask questions. Ugh. Right. Questions.
Touya pursed his lips, licking at his scars, and eyed the window again. It was big enough for him to pass through and he seemed to be on the first floor. It was not a high jump, he could manage. He tested the needles in his arms, they were easy to take off. He was dressed in a black t-shirt with some strange logo and grey sweatpants. Comfortable and perfect for his escape.
Except, as he closed his fingers around the first needle, the door opened and Sora strode in with a knowing smile and a carboard box, that he dropped on the desk. “Trying to go away?” The man, ignoring how frozen Touya was, grabbed the chair to push it nearer to the bed and sat down, trademark hoodie down on his shoulders to show the simmering golden eyes. “With your health, I wouldn’t recommend it.”
That made him pause, slowly letting go of the needle and turning fully to the hero. “My health?” His voice was raspy and scratchy.
Sora immediately took up a glass of water from the nightstand he hadn’t noticed before and offered it. “Here, drink.” He did, in small sips. “I’ll brief you on what happened since you fainted, is that ok?” Touya simply nodded, he needed the info and escaping within Sora’s eyesight was just impossible. “Those two that tried to convince us they were your parents are now in police custody. They couldn’t provide documents of your birth and lies don’t work here. For the time being, you are safe from them,” the hero leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, hands on his knee. “But my guess is that the spike in criminal activities is the reason why you’ve gone into hiding… or the opposite, I’m not sure. I have not seen you in a while. At first I thought you were avoiding me,” he huffed, “but I know from experience that is not possible. Anyway, your health. We ran check-ups on you, you’re malnourished, have a few but serious infections and your scars need caring, I have a vague idea how itchy they are.”
Touya absently lifted one hand to his face, tracing one of his many scars, and nodded. “Kind of.”
Sora smiled. “Now, to address your attempt at escaping,” he waved one hand towards the cardboard box, “in there are your things, nothing has been touched… but, please, throw away those rugs and pick up some clothes from our storage… We haven’t tried to identify you.”
The relief at having his belongings untouched was flooded with dread at the mention of his identity. And then he blinked. “… what?”
“Well, my detective friend wanted to, but I can take a hint. You didn’t tell me your name in time of peace, when you could roam the streets undisturbed, you surely won’t want to tell me now that you’re hunted down and driven into a corner. Which,” he sighed, “brings me to a proposition I have for you. Do you want to hear it?”
Sora already knew far too much, more than he could have thought was understandable from the outside. What could hearing this proposition do? It couldn’t hurt, right? He nodded once. The hero smiled.
“My priority at the moment is to nurse you back to health. Until that is achieved, my proposition is for you to stay here, in the Agency, do odd jobs with a regular contract that will not weigh on your health, so that you will be able to afford a place of your own… at least safer than that one-wall room you were staying at,” he scoffed. “The only thing I’d ask for is a name, whatever you want to give me, and then no questions asked. None, nothing, not from me, not from anyone else.”
Touya couldn’t hold back a frown. “That… That’s… against the law?”
“Uh, not really? Uhm,” Sora tilted his head in thought, “this Agency is like an Embassy, you know? Police by now respects my decisions. If I say you’re ok, you’re ok, and you’re my responsibility. So,” he shrugged, “no questions asked. There are private rooms upstairs, with a common kitchen. You’re not the only one I offered this to… Though, to be fair, this happens mostly to Vigilante that make it into a project of the Agency.”
He felt overwhelmed by information, yet he couldn’t stop his curiosity, “project?”
“Yeah,” Sora smiled sheepishly, “I started as a vigilante, and later became a hero… I don’t see why we should just discard potential heroes only because society did it once and they deflected.”
“You… deflected?”
“Uh, no… no, I was just too late for hero school. That’s going to change, too, thanks to Nezu… UA’s Chairman?”
He’d heard about him, resembled a rat. Touya looked away from the hero, thinking everything through because… he had no doubts what Sora had said was true, beginning to ending. He would be safe, he would be cared for, and he would have a job that didn’t include stealing or villaining around. There was also the possibility of just leaving without being held back, because there had been no mentioning of obligations or time-limits… save for the possible job contract and a fake name he could come up with easily.
“You can think about it for as long as you nee–”
“Yuusei,” he said, looking up at the smiling hero, “call me Yuusei.”
Sora nodded and offered a handshake that he engaged in, “pleasure to meet you again, Yuusei, my name is Tsuna.”
Of all the things he had expected when he had finally been allowed to leave bed-arrest and sign a part-time contract with the Agency, Touya had not considered animals. Like, he’d known about the traffic rings dismantled and all, but news spoke only about man and women and children, not hippos. The Agency basically had a whole area equipped like a zoo where animals of different species just played around with each other. He’d not seen many documentaries in his life, but he was pretty sure a cat and a lion were not supposed to be chummy and playful with one another. His colleagues were on his same page, except they had been working for Sora for a time and they had accepted that the place was out of the world and followed rules that they could not understand.
He found a twin soul in Tsuna’s husband, Shouta. Touya saw him the first time as he was sweat dropping at the antics of Cora, the cat, and Mozambe, the lion. He was about to give them their food, but stopped at the raven’s side with a mumbled greeting.
“Hello,” the man drawled, clearly needing some good sleep, “you must be the new guy?”
“Yuusei,” he offered.
“Pleasure, I’m Shouta, or Eraserhead,” he sighed while brushing one hand down his face, “or whatever… that’s so insane. I feel insane.”
Touya eyed the two felines and shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“In this building? No. God forbids reporters get in, though.”
Yes, he’d heard about the allergy that Sora had basically sprinkled all over his workers. “I don’t think that would go well.”
“Last time they tried, an entire tv program was brought down.”
He wasn’t even surprised. “Taught them a lesson.”
“For sure…” Eraserhead sighed and rolled his shoulders, “how is the job?”
Touya went to feed Mozambe, by then no more scared that he would be maimed. “The first thing that comes to mind is: warm.” Aizawa scoffed into a curt chuckle. “More than a job, it seems therapy, with animals and all.”
“Tell me about it…”
“And it’s good to take care of them, to be able to… provide for them. Makes me feel useful, for once,” he added the last part as a whisper, thoughts straying to how he used to care for–
“I agree… but I guess having children is kind of the same?” He barked a short laughter, “damn problem children…”
Touya swallowed as Cora licked the tips of his fingers in thanks for the food. “How old are they?” He stood and went back to the man’s side, facing him this time.
“15 and 11, three brats.” He scoffed, “wouldn’t let the world touch them.”
“And you didn’t– Uh, I mean, the kidnapping?”
Aizawa scowled, but not at him. “The trap. They did manage to touch my kids. Won’t happen again.”
He wasn’t sure it could be said with such certainty, it wasn’t like they had visions of the future or anything like that. “They seem good kids.”
“Uhm, problem children,” he repeated with a sigh, “my husband has this habit of adopting whoever stumbles in front of him.”
Touya had a sudden, and dreading, epiphany. “You… you can’t be serious.”
The man shrugged, “I am. And I’m about to be as truthful as possible, because Tsuna can be a bit dense at times and, while he does know better than anyone about basically everything, he tends to be headstrong about decisions that you can make… He sees you as the adult you legally are, but forgets it easily when he watches you… he won’t ask. So, let me set this straight: he’s had his eyes on you since your first meeting. He saw something in you that made him terribly smitten and he wants you to be part of our family. After finally meeting you, I can understand his point of view.” He tilted his head, “you’re a survivor, just like him and our kids.”
Touya unconsciously lifted one hand to his scars.
“No, not for those,” Aizawa scowled, “though I would pay to beat the hell out of the ones who caused them.”
He shook his head, letting out in a whisper, “you really shouldn’t.”
“Well, maybe I can’t, Tsuna surely can. No one can beat him, anyway… As I said, my husband won’t ask, which is why I am the one offering the possibility to you with a clear understanding of what exactly an adoption would entail.”
He was basically led to an office and ran through every single detail of the offer. Disbelieving but wanting to unpack all that madness at a later and more comfortable time, Touya listened.
“Tsuna…” The man, probably by then with a colossal headache, sighed, massaging his forehead, “why did you have interrogation rooms built if you never use them?”
“Bad planning,” the brunet shrugged, grabbing packs of pasta from the upper cabinet, “and she’s just homeless, not an offender.”
Touya hummed as he stood to help cooking. There was this monthly routine, he’d found, in the Agency where Sora, the employer, prepared a meal for who wanted to stay for dinner, on Friday so that his kids could come, too. He knew the irony, but he had long learned, four months into this part-time, that he better not ask questions about strangeness. It was what it was.
“She tried to rob you.”
“I didn’t see that,” the brunet looked at Touya, “did you?”
“No.” They’d gone together to buy the ingredients for dinner. It was strange to walk the streets with Sora and a detective, hands itching for a theft.
“All settled.”
“You were already insufferable, but with Yuusei-san backing you up you’re even worse.”
“Nao-kun,” Tsuna turned and smiled, “relax, she’ll be alright, and we need to get the cooking started!”
“Yeah, yeah,” the detective stood to help, mumbling something about intuition. “Aizawa?”
“He’ll come later, he’s picking up the boys.”
“Joy.”
“You’re so annoying tonight, what happened?”
“You happened…. I’m teasing, I’m teasing, sorry. Nothing, really, just… paperwork and overall tiredness.”
“Well, Shouta will be happy to entertain you by napping the night away.”
“I sure hope so,” the detective sighed, “where do you need these tomatoes?”
Sora chuckled. They worked together, with teasing banter flying over the food, for almost an hour before the meal was ready on the table. Touya eyed the fantastic-looking dishes and wondered – out loud.
“Who taught you?”
The brunet turned to him from wiping his hands on a towel, “my mom.” He followed his gaze to the table with a very small smile. “She sparked my interest, when I was a child… and then I took to it, I guess? Learned more recipes,” he looked away. “I… When I cook, it’s like having her beside me. It’s very nostalgic.” He breathed in and out, then smiled at Touya, “what about you? It doesn’t seem like you’re new to cooking?”
Oh… Dug his own grave. “I used to cook… for… my family. Nothing big, just… just the necessary when there was need.”
“That’s the best, cooking for family.” His smile brightened as the other employees started streaming in the mess hall.
Silently, head low, Touya went to mingle with his co-workers, whit whom he’d managed to build something like a healthy relationship, especially with the lawyer. More than with Shigaraki and surely better than with Kurogiri. He… liked working in Sora’s Agency. It was peaceful, normal, no one looked at him strange, he was left to his own work, his Boss was even too permissive, the pay was good, the animals were great. His half-intention to flee the place as soon as he was deemed ready to leave bed had died in the pit of his stomach slowly but surely. He… He just felt so warm, accepted, comforted. He’d never felt like this, not even in his own house. His siblings, maybe, had given him a bit of closure… but then…
After dinner, he wanted to help wash the dishes, but Sora’s kids took the places at the basin, crowding their father, and he left through the French window to the balcony. The detective was sleeping, had been for the last two hours, but Aizawa was staring at the sky. Touya went to lean against the railing.
“Grats for dinner, was told you helped.”
“… thanks…”
“My purpose wasn’t to put you on edge.”
“I know… it’s not you.”
Eraserhead moved his gaze to him. “It wasn’t Tsuna, either.”
He just shook his head. “He can’t hurt a fly.”
“If the fly doesn’t hurt anyone,” he scoffed, “I see… Fine, then I’ll add something more, about parenting, so that you start to feel how it should feel: we’re here to listen, whatever you want to say. Even if,” he lifted an index, “you refuse.” The detective gave a low snore and snuggled better into the pillow. “Now I have to drive him home… Seriously, find yourself a partner that can monitor your sleeping schedule! It worked for me.”
“Ah, yes,” Sora said as he peeked past the window, “and yet I remember your grumbles and whines and pleas to work just five more minutes.”
Aizawa visibly pouted. “Kitten, you’re adorable, but still too pushy.”
“Then sleep healthily.” Sora went back in.
There was a sigh, “I deserved that.”
“Yeah, you did,” the detective mumbled, barely opening one eye. “And I don’t want a partner, thank you.”
“You’re missing out.”
“God forbid I find someone as imposing as your husband.”
“Still missing out,” Aizawa sang, standing up. “I mean, would you have seen me settled and with kids, what is it, five years ago?”
“That’s because Tsuna doesn’t know the meaning of achieving normal, instead he goes for the impossible.”
“Touché.” The raven helped the other up, but the pillow of the outside bench followed, securely wrapped in the man’s arms. “Oh come on, another?”
“Don’t touch my pillow.”
Aizawa rolled his eyes with a deep sigh, “one day, I’ll find you buried in stolen pillows.”
“A nice way to go.”
“… you need sleep.”
“Coming from you, I can only laugh.”
Touya couldn’t take it anymore and a chuckle escaped his iron grip on emotions. The detective simply smiled and went back inside, Aizawa lingered a bit with a grin.
“Time to go, good night Yuusei.”
“… ‘night.”
A knot tied his insides at how bonding that greeting felt. He waited a few moments to hear the small crowd leave before getting inside himself. Sora was washing the table, Touya helped him wipe it. There still was that comforting warmth enveloping the whole room.
“It was nice, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” he put the towel away so that it could dry, “you didn’t go with your family?”
“Shouta has to drive Nao-kun home, he’s a lousy driver when he’s not slept enough, and I can walk, it’s not far. Are you sleeping well in your room?”
Better than in any other he’d ever had. “I am… I like it here.”
“You do?” Sora suddenly looked way younger, with the widest smile yet. “That’s so good to hear– but, if you have anything to ask or whine about, anything you need to tell me, don’t hold back, ok?”
Were the husbands in sync or something? “… ok.”
“Good,” he smiled, “thank you for the help today, are you tired?”
“A bit.”
“Then I’ll let you rest.” He lifted his hand and abruptly stopped, “good night.”
Touya watched the sad smile, blinking at what he could see was an attempt at ruffling his hair, “good night.”
The hero left through the French window. He swallowed the gratefulness at the aborted act, at the act itself, at what it meant and then hid his face behind one hand at the understanding that dawned on him: Aizawa had not been joking at all about the adoption thing.