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Everyone had hobbies, whether that be crocheting sweaters for your grandchildren or painting mosaics across your bedroom walls, everyone had hobbies that filled their mundane, mortal lives.
Everyone had hobbies, even immortal cryptids. Originally, such hobbies consisted of lying flat on his belly reading comics with his younger brother. However, he doesn’t see this new pastime as being much different than the first.
Butterfly terrariums were a more foreign pastime to Hisashi, never being something, he understood or particularly cared for. However, he thought he might have had a change of heart. Afterall, keeping beautiful creatures safe within a terrarium, where you kept them healthy and cared for as you watched them grow from within. Well, he could understand the appeal.
The low squeak of the front door interrupted the quiet calm of Hisashi’s favorite terrarium. Slivers of yellowed streetlights illuminating traditional wooden floors, a low click followed as the light was swept back into the streets. Hisashi blinked into the inky darkness, activating night vision as he glared down at his wristwatch.
The hands on the watch read 2:45 in the morning, Hisashi sighed.
‘Butterflies like flowers, right’ Hisashi mused to himself, with only a small trace of hope. He added Padma’s to his mental shopping list.
Hisashi had promised Inko to be home by dinner that day-well the day before. 5:30 In the afternoon, Hisashi was eight hours and fifteen minutes late for their little family dinner. A dinner Hisashi had promised to attend numerous times before. He had planned to attend, was excited even to spend his pastime relaxing with his latest hobby, but- he had gotten distracted. Large fingers pressed into the rapidly forming bruise on his cheekbone, applying an old healing quirk to lessen the damage and the slew of questions his wife would throw at him later.
-click
Hisashi spun on his heel, smoldering heat racing up his throat, he felt his quirk tingle on his tongue ready to aim and incinerate that blond oaf–
Tiny, socked feet padded against the floorboards, letting out an occasional creak with every other step.
The dim light from a flashlight bobbed gently up and down as the house's inhabitant rounded the corner. Hisashi sucked the burning flame back down his throat in a painful gulp, almost choking on it. He let out a quivering breath, willing those images to the back of his mind.
“Papa?”
Burgundy eyes darted towards the small figure standing at the mouth of the dark hallway. A little boy, his little Izuku stood decked out in All Might pajamas with a matching All Might flashlight to boot. Izuku’s little face split into a large grin, worry ebbing into excitement, a joy that almost felt smothering to Hisashi, as he watched his son.
“Papa! You’re home!” The boy darted towards his father, hugging around the man’s legs with vigor, knocking Hisashi out from his stupor. The man gingerly scooped the boy into his arms, he pressed his forehead to the child's.
“I’m home, little one. Now tell me my child, why are you not in bed.” Hisashi questioned, pacing towards the couch, collapsing onto the comfortable cushions with his child still in his arms.
“I wanted to stay up until you got home.” Izuku murmured, fiddling with his hands in his lap. “Mom said you’d be home by dinner and when you weren’t, I wanted to stay up until you came home.” Hisashi hummed, large hand carding through the boy’s viridian curls absentmindedly.
“I’m sorry Izu, work got too busy. I couldn’t get away.” The excuse came easy, falling from his mouth like water flowing down a stream. There was a dull ache in his chest, a pest he couldn’t put a name to, one he’d been experiencing far longer than he’d like. He'd have to get the doctor to take another look before it worsened more than it had already.
“You know that I would have been back by morning. I’m always back by breakfast, little one.” Hisashi said gently, “who else is going to make your silly little pancakes you like so much?”
Izuku’s gaze was fixated on his hands as they fidgeted with the hem of his pajamas.
“I know,” he said after a moment of silence, “I just missed you Papa…”
Hisashi cooed, basking in the warmth enveloping his chest, “I missed you too, little one.” He said more earnestly than he cared to admit. He curled a strand of curly hair around his finger, it coiled like a spring. That odd feeling stirred in his chest, and he settled for leaving his hand on his son’s shoulder.
Izuku grinned up at him, “I showed Mom some of my analysis, but she doesn’t really get it,” Izuku scratched his ear, nervous tick, Hisashi mentally noted, “but I know you like quirks too, I wanted to know what you thought!”
Hisashi nodded, patting his shoulder gently, “I’d love to see what you’ve come up with, little one.”
Izuku immediately jumped up, an energized bounce in his step as he raced towards his bedroom, flashlight illuminating sporadic beams onto the wooden floors. Hisashi watched him disappear from sight, quietly amused, before turning back around. He locked eyes with his reflection in the mirror by the front doors.
Crimson eyes, crinkled in foreign mirth, lips curled upwards in a relaxed grin with white teeth peeking behind slightly parted lips. It was a foreign expression; unlike the lazy grins he gave subordinates and the sharp snarls given to enemies. An expression that held more emotion than he knew what to do with, it told a story he didn’t believe. He touched his cheeks, tracing the lines of the smile with the pad of his finger, looking into the odd light in his eyes, one he hadn’t seen since…
“Papa” Hisashi’s wide eyes shot towards his son’s. The child rounded the corner, brandishing a regular school notebook, with Izuku’s clumsy script on the cover, “Hero Analysis for the Future #1!” was written in green crayon.
Izuku hoisted himself onto the couch, refusing Hisashi’s outstretched hands. The boy kicked his legs underneath him, fumbling with his notebook with one hand so they could both see the contents.
He flipped through the pages, passing the childish stick figures of up-and-coming heroes and even flying by Bakugo’s page. That came to a surprise to Hisashi, they always disguised that brat’s quirk, that or All Might, and truthfully, he didn’t know which topic was worse. Regardless, he appreciated the break it gave him. Only for Izuku to make an abrupt stop at his chosen destination, leaving Hisashi to gape slightly.
This page had a stick figure, slightly chubbier than the others (Hisashi was happy to see the improvement in Izuku’s artistic abilities,) with large red wings. Izuku’s handwriting titled the page “Dragon Wings” the rest of the page was filled with analysis, pros, cons, possible application, and the basic function of the quirk, all written in Inko’s neat handwriting.
…Tsubasa…
That was an interesting change of events. He couldn’t help but entertain the hope that bloomed in his chest at the realization. Maybe Izuku was moving on from his interest in Bakugou’s and All Might’s quirks, maybe he was expanding his realm of expertise. He reverently glossed over the page, completely jam packed with information, covering each corner of space the drawing didn’t take up.
“Papa ‘member you asked me about my friends' quirks.” Hisashi let a fond smile curl his lips, telling himself it was another lie, before he nodded.
Hisashi Midoriya, was a quirk analyst, it was a job just as much a hobby. The abilities, combinations, they were endless with meta-abilities. And for Hisashi’s long life, he met other specialists, ‘doctors’, with a similar passion for superpowers. But none ever compared to himself, he knew quirks in a way no one else understood, knew them deeply, personally. He turned them inside and out to achieve his goals. Like a child with their favorite toy, he never put them down, and never passed up on getting the latest model.
No one else understood, no one outside of his little oasis; little terrarium.
Izuku thought so much like himself, dissected quirks with vigor, leaving a detailed analysis of weaknesses to exploit and strengths to enhance. It filled him with a sense of pride at his son’s brilliance, knowing that with little shaping Izuku would one day peel away his cocoon, revealing brilliant wings of knowledge in its wake. But he was wiser than to entertain those thoughts further, this little terrarium was Hisashi’s oasis, a place locked away from the world. A hobby, one that would eventually have to be discarded when complications arose. It was nausea this time, making him feel unsettled. He gripped his son’s shoulder, suppressing this inexplicable ailment deep into his subconscious, tuning into his son’s avid rambling.
“-It’s a mutation, they grow about this much,” Izuku squished his index finger and thumb together in front of his face, signifying around an inch in length. "Every 6 months since we met. They grow with the size of him, when he grows up his wings are gonna be really big.” Izuku made an exaggerated gesture with his arms out to illustrate his point. “It’s to manage his size, so they carry him no matter how big he gets. But they’re too strong for him, if he’s not careful he’ll beat them and fly a little higher than he wanted to. He tries to play it off like it was on purpose, but… I know it wasn’t. They’re a strong red leathery feeling… material… They’re better than feathers, feathers can keep you warm, but they burn really easily. His wings are both dragon-like and bat-like, I think made from thin leathery stuff and pa..patagium, which is super cool because they don’t burn as easily but aren't really thick like animal leather, so he can bend and move his wings freely. His wings are really long, they point near the bottom which allow for fast flying. Hisashi nodded.
He hummed, Izuku’s sudden inexplicable interest in the textures and different types of wings made more sense now. Tsubasa’s quirk was perfect for fast flying and resilient against fire quirks, that’s a good combination. Hisashi absentmindedly rubbed his index finger against his chin in thought, mulling over the child’s quirk. A strength quirk, coupled with the average dose of healing capabilities would help keep his wings from snapping.
Muttering beside him caught his attention. Izuku was enthusiastic about the importance of wing shape in the efficiency of flight and combat. The man glanced over the neat green script on the page. The margins openly gawked at the possible applications of young Tsubasa’s quirk; detailing about the strength of the wings, if shaped in a rounded cup formation they could blow a strong gust of wind towards the opponent, comparing such a motion to All Might’s air blasts. Hisashi winced. A series of questions left unanswered near the end of the margins, with a date, Izuku’s name, and age, finishing the cluttered page.
“Izuku…” The child startled at the question, as if forgetting he wasn’t the only person in the living room and met Hisashi’s gaze a little sheepishly.
“What sort of combinations would you pair with Tsubasa’s quirk? I was thinking a strength and healing quirk to deter some of his potential weaknesses.” Hisashi questioned thoughtfully.
Izuku hummed, pulling his legs into a crisscross and playing with his hands in his lap. The cuffs of his All Might pajama pants rose above the ankle, showcasing light bruises lining the length of the child’s ankles, blue and yellow branding him like chains. Hisashi’s free hand clenched into a fist, his other hand stalled above the child’s shoulder before resuming his idle petting. Izuku didn’t seem to notice, suddenly too engrossed in his tangent about different applications and combinations, hands waving around to signify different points.
“...Izuku…” The harsh sound of his own voice cut through the static in his mind, causing his son to flinch slightly at the sudden atmosphere shift. “Izuku-” He tried again, gentler this time, “your friend seems to be quite strong, isn’t he?” He finished, gentle smile gracing his features.
Izuku nodded in response, tugging at the cuffs of his pants, “Y-yeah… really strong. His quirk allows him to go really, umm he can go up really high. And gravity doesn’t seem to stop him either…” Izuku mumbled.
“What are his weaknesses, Izuku?” Hisashi questioned, as he ruffled his son’s curls, noticing the shift in enthusiasm. “I would only assume he has some, after what you mentioned about gravity, the bones of his wings must also be considered. For such a strong quirk, it must have a limit?”
Izuku nodded, a glint appearing in his eyes again.
“The bones look flexible, can’t break them easily. That’s why I think that his wings are like a bat’s, they’re controlled by what looks like muscles, and, and… blood tubes,"
"vessels” His father corrected.
“-vessels and nerves. Mama helped me learn ‘bout bats… But I’m not sure…”
“That’s a wonderful hypothesis, Izuku. Why don’t you ask Tsubasa, I’m sure he’ll love to answer your questions, that's what a good friend does right?” Hisashi remarked, sweeping Izuku’s curls away from his forehead absentmindedly.
“Yeah… I’ve tried, he doesn’t really like answering questions about his quirk.” He responded.
Hisashi watched as his son fidgeted, with a practiced apathetic stare glazing his eyes before it shifted, eyes crinkling with a smile that grew too taught, gaining a painful edge. “I see… Such a shame…” Hisashi gritted out, blatantly ignoring the burning in his chest.
“Well, I would assume that the child’s weaknesses could include the weight of gravity, I’m sure after he reaches a certain height, he’s unable to support his own weight. The leathery component allows him to withstand Bakugo’s explosions within a certain radius without burns, he can probably withstand a certain level of cold as well. I’d say agility, strength, and gravity are all at play. Force him to move away from a predator quickly or an extended chase, he won’t succeed. That won’t do Izuku…”
The child nodded in agreement. “And if he wants to be a hero, he’ll get hurt!”
“Yes. And that would be dreadful.” Hisashi forced his clenched fist open like an oyster, stuffing the few negative experiences from his favorite hobby to the side to reap in the positives. This was his favorite part of their game, after plucking the intricate workings of the quirks and their shared theories, they got to ‘fix’ the hero. Find the best-case scenario quirk combinations to make the ‘perfect hero’. It was a silly premise, Hisashi was never a fan of heroes, quirks, absolutely, heroes were celebrities given more credit than they deserved.
There was plenty to criticize about hero society, their frequent use of child soldiers, government propaganda that fueled the fire of what quirks were ‘ideal’ and which ones that weren’t, their strict control of quirk usage causing toddlers with budding quirks to potentially be charged as an adult because of a quirk misfire. And that just grazed the surface of the corrupt actions of the government, completely missing the special prejudice saved for those that lacked meta-abilities to begin with. However, Izuku loved heroes, despite his father's dismay, this little game they played was a nice peace treaty between their disagreements and their shared interests.
A series of vibrations from Hisashi’s back pocket had him tearing his phone out, noticing one of his subordinates' names shining back at him. Izuku stopped mumbling to look wide-eyed at his father before confusion scrunched up his face.
Hisashi weighed the benefits, should he excuse himself to take the potentially important call or stay in this little bubble. Bask in the warmth of family bonding time for just a little moment longer. This was a hobby, up against his main goal, his life’s purpose, something he had fought 200 years and counting to achieve. To Hisashi it should have been an easy answer, he prided himself in keeping in touch with the status of his empire, never missing a thing. The man looked to his son, who curiously stared back, head tilted slightly, and the father declined the call. He gingerly stuffed his phone back into his pocket, ignoring the insistent vibrations.
It didn’t matter, he told himself, missing one call wouldn’t upend his empire overnight. And he denied that this little action meant anything more than him wanting a simple break.
“I’m sorry Izu, please continue.” Hisashi coughed.
Izuku continued to stare, a little surprised, before he turned back to the book in his lap while a small smile lifted the corners of his lips.
“I think a hardening quirk could also protect his wings from breaking. I don’t know what his wings are made of, not for sure, but a hardening quirk could help them.” Izuku mumbled, a long string of words fluttering from his lips detailing the perks of strength quirks and Hisashi’s suggestion about gravity being a potential weakness.
And Hisashi sat there and listened to every word, intrigued by what might come next. Though something did bother him, something he sadly couldn’t wait much longer to ask. He tapped a finger on his son’s shoulder, halting the boy’s muttering.
“Izuku.” Big green eyes gazed at his father in confusion, “What do your friends at school think about your mumbling?” He asked, keeping a tone of gentle curiosity instead of malice.
The child immediately broke eye contact, absentmindedly tugging on the sleeves of his pajama shirt.
“Well, Papa.” He paused as his fidgeting worsened, “they don’t really like it.” He scratched his cheek, as Hisashi hummed.
“They’re n-not mean a-about it.” Izuku hastily explained, waving his hands in front of his face. Hisashi knew his hobbies well, he knew when they lied and when they told the truth. And his little boy scratched his right ear, a clear sign he was lying, a clear sign he was protecting some snot-nosed brats.
“But you can always be honest if they were Izu.” Hisashi retorted gently. And Izuku nodded.
“I am, Papa.” He didn’t even sound sure himself, as he scratched at his right ear nervously.
Hisashi didn’t like people touching his things, he didn’t enjoy people getting in the way of what he wanted. And at the revelation of what his child told him, he vaguely wondered if he should intervene. These brats, Izuku’s peers, could break Izuku’s determination. He will realize the world is mean and cold and dirty, and he’ll run to his father for security. He’ll always need him, never leave him, always love him. And the best part, Hisashi doesn’t have to feel those ridiculous aches if he had to take it away himself.
Hisashi will never lose his little oasis that way, Inko was easy to keep track of, Izuku would grow to be an issue. If they were both willing, he may be able to keep this little hobby for longer than he originally intended. It was an avenue. Hisashi thought, as long as they don’t do too much physical damage.
It sounded wonderful, a perfect gamble.
But…
Hisashi didn’t like people touching his things. And he didn’t like the blue bruises or the crumbled expression on Izuku’s face, and he didn’t like that it pained him. And for once, the burn of hatred didn’t spark any sense of joy, only the promise of another short life.
…He needed to talk to his doctor…
…When was the last time he called that man?
“D-do you think my quirk analysis is weird, Papa?”
Hisashi blinked, pausing for a moment to register the question before gaping down at his son.
His son started to mumble again; gaze pointed at his knees avoiding his father's wide-eyed stare. “IknowthatitcanbeweirdtoanalyzesomeonesquirkbutIreallydoittohelpthemand-”
“Izuku…” His father interrupted, a hand resting against the boy’s shoulder. “Look at me, Izuku.” The boy hesitantly lifted his gaze to meet his father.
“Little one, your quirk analysis isn’t close to stupid, it’s the opposite, you’re very eloquent and determined for a boy your age. It never fails to impress me.” Hisashi stated bluntly, a short life indeed, he thought. Izuku’s eyebrows scrunched together, still not convinced.
“A-are you sure it’s not too weird, Kac-I mean, uhm.” Hisashi’s hand tightened reflexively into fists, before he let go altogether, choosing to clasp his fingers in his lap. Izuku bit the inside of his cheek before he continued. “I feel like maybe… people look at me weird when I ask them about their quirks.” He muttered, looking down at his fidgeting fingers.
Hisashi hummed, suppressing the burning in his chest and focused on his distressed child. “Izuku, do you find me odd?”
Izuku blanched in response. “No! Of course, not Papa, you’re awesome! Why would you ask that?”
“Because Izuku, we both adore quirks and talk about their different functions. It’s a common interest, if you’re weird for liking them then I’m worse. Yet, you don’t share that sentiment towards me.” Hisashi waved a hand in the air nonchalantly, “I believe that you’re simply more prepared for the future than those other children.” Izuku looked at his father quizzically, “You see, analyzing an opponent's strengths and weaknesses is vital to surviving in a fight. And those other children want to be heroes, yes?” Izuku nodded, “Then you are simply better, more prepared, you’ll pinpoint a weakness and exploit it to prevail against your opponent. They are afraid of your potential, little one. They know that they will always be in your shadow. That’s why you are better than anyone who doubts you… It’s what we have in common.” Izuku nodded, a timid smile appeared on his face, Hisashi enjoyed the warmth the expression provoked. “So, it’ll help me save people?” Hisashi sighed, “Yes, little one, you can prevail against any opponent… While saving their victims.”
Izuku grinned, little dimples carving into his cheeks. And Hisashi allowed his own smile to widen, feeling satisfied…
Now, “Is there anyone in particular causing you to feel this way?” Hisashi questioned, a kid with wings came to mind, or maybe the blond brat. Izuku’s smile fell momentarily before replacing itself a moment later.
He avoided his father’s searching gaze, finding one speck on their pristine couch to be more interesting. “I told you Papa, no one’s being mean … I-I j-just notice other kids don’t share the same interest.”
Hisashi sighed, choosing to drop the subject. “Of course, I’m just so worried about you, Izuku. I want to make sure no one’s being ‘mean’.” He saw Izuku nod from the corner of his eye. Hisashi was only a little disappointed.
There were a few rare moments where he wished for his son to be the vengeful type. He would love to have a detailed list of every insect that ever offended him; however, it was a characteristic Izuku inherited from his mother. Something Hisashi loved and loathed.
However, Hisashi was the adult, Izuku was but a small child, too innocent to really understand the truth of the world. It was Hisashi’s job to defend his possessions from offenders, and he supposed that ‘disposing’ of a few children wasn’t out of character for his normal work. It’s not as if disposing of a few children really meant that he genuinely cared for this pathetic little family.
It wasn’t a hassle, he told himself.
The children could be used towards his main goal anyway, it had nothing to do with their treatment towards his son. He lamented.
And besides, Izuku’s happiness was more convenient for Hisashi in the long run. The excuse came easy, but that didn’t make Hisashi believe it any better.
Hisashi ignored the rage at yellowing bruises, ignored the stab of pain at tear-streaked cheeks, and the feeling of warmth not caused from Izuku’s adoration but his smile in general.
Hobbies were meant to relieve your stress, like puzzles and face masks.
Hobbies were fun and pointless and mindless.
Hobbies didn’t bring tears to your eyes, springing emotions onto a heartless Demon Lord.
Hobbies didn’t have you chasing your own tail to attend to the whims of a child, not for personal gain or happiness, not to fill a void you never wanted to admit the existence of, but just because that little, weak child mattered without even trying.
So, he ignored the burning and the fear and pain and the care. And focused on the warmth he got when he received praise, gifts from this little ‘hobby’. That was the only feeling he accepted, the only one that ever-made sense to him.
The rest of the emotions were pests, inconvenient insects that would be healed once his doctor cured him.
Hisashi opened his mouth before closing it again, silence crept upon them making the room feel smaller than it is. He sighed, opting for supportive distance.
“Well Izu, you shouldn’t pay it any mind. I’m sure your little ‘friends’ don’t think that way at all.” Hisashi responded, his voice monotone as he tightened his grip around his fingers.
“You don’t?” The child asked meekly, big green eyes looking up at his father, completely vulnerable. Hisashi avoided them, choosing instead to look at the green bird's nest on his son's head.
“Of course not. That would make them blundering idiots, and they aren’t blundering idiots, right Izuku?” Hisashi asked, watching the bird nest tousle back and forth as the boy shook his head stubbornly.
“Of course not, Papa!” Izuku exclaimed, hair looking messier than before. Hisashi resisted an urge to lick his palm and smooth it down.
“...Of course, not…” He mimicked in a gentle whisper. “Well… I believe it’s well past your bedtime, don’t you think little one?”
“No Papa…. I-I’m not that tired.” Izuku defended, rubbing his eyes, trying to rid the little creep of exhaustion. Hisashi stood, a low sting of protests escaped Izuku's lips as he was plucked from the couch and carried off to his bedroom.
“Children need plenty of sleep, so their bodies have the energy to grow big and strong.” Hisashi cooed as he laid the boy on his light green comforter, gingerly pulling large viridian blankets to the boy’s neck. “Like All Might.” The child slurred in a sleepy daze, Hisashi tucked the fabric under the child robotically, making the boy into a tight cocoon. “Like a butterfly, little one.” He corrected, earning him a sleepy giggle in response.
Hisashi sat beside his son, rigid aside from the occasional twitch of his fingers.
Izuku supplied a sleepy smile in return, one his father hesitantly reciprocated. Izuku’s eye’s drifted shut at the hesitant caress of his father's hand through his hair, sinking into exhaustion without a fight.
His father sat still, exhaustion clinging to his joints, making him suppress a groan of irritation, he slumped forward over his knees, hands cupping his face as he weighed the benefits of just sleeping on his son’s bedroom floor again. Reminiscent of when Izuku was an infant, Hisashi remembers the nightmares that landed him on the cold hardwood of the boy’s bedroom, where his son clung to him, tear-streaked cheeks, and for whatever reason Hisashi couldn’t move. He remembers staying until Izuku fell back to sleep and remembers staying longer. He remembers the spot that was always slightly warmer than the rest and felt his body sag at the thought as another wave of exhaustion washed over him.
His eyelashes fluttered rapidly before slowing, longer durations where they descended on freckled cheeks before rising sluggishly. He resigned himself to his fate, he let his eyelids rest, slumping next to his slumbering child, large encompassing fingers curling around the boy's fragile wrist.
In the solace of his own mind, he allowed himself to imagine revealing his true quirk to his family. He dreamt of their happy faces filled with love and adoration instead of terror. He imagined showcasing every wonderful quirk he had at his disposal to his adoring son. Izuku would love his quirks. He would completely forget about All Might if Hisashi revealed his true power.
Together they could dissect his quirks without a wall between them, a boundary of knowledge that his son was unaware of.
Hisashi would finally win his son’s undivided attention, his devotion. He could give his son any quirk he desired, something All Might could never provide. He’d surely win his one-sided feud.
The only question remaining was, what stopped him? Why not take what he wants, finally scratch that itch that this hobby was crafted to sooth? He blinked his eyes open, half lidded as he stared into the dark room. His gaze scrutinized the All Might memorabilia, finally landing on the child slumbering beside him. Even with his recent ‘condition’ he shouldn’t hesitate to act on his wishes, it wasn’t like it could ever truly harm his little family. He cradled the child’s head to his chest.
He adored his new hobby, it never failed to entertain him. But with that love came hatred. He hated how he couldn’t bring himself to feel indifferent in the face of this silly little child, let alone hatred. And he loathed the fear that realization gave him. If he bent to his desires, well, that came with risks. Risks, unfortunately outweighing the reward.
Izuku was smart, frighteningly so, but he was still a child. A child that might accidentally let it slip that his father can wield multiple quirks. Izuku could spill this information to his ‘friends’, teachers, or even Inko. Hisashi knew he could never be honest with Inko, she may not know of the cryptid ‘All for One’, but that didn’t change that he lied to her. It caused a rift, potentially deteriorating the peace they shared.
And none of that takes into consideration the possibility of Izuku possessing his quirk. Which… he had to admit would be a bittersweet realization.
Izuku, possessing his quirk, would elevate their little ‘games’, they could test their theories out themselves instead of just imagination. It would give them even more common ground and Hisashi would have an excuse to stay a little longer with them. He had to be certain that Izuku was capable of using All for One properly. However, the anxiety added to that responsibility could dig his son’s grave. It would be documented, and if not documented someone will find out. Once they found out, once they found them, there was no turning back. There would be no easy way to fix the issue, not when the outcome of such a misstep would result in… He chose not to continue that thought.
His heart stuttering, Hisashi held his son closer, pushing aside the irrational thoughts he enjoyed this much needed rest. He didn’t close his eyes, only half-lidded as he stared at the eggshell white painted walls. He listened to the soft snores and could feel the slow rise and fall of the child’s chest. His gaze shifted to the floor, watching the silhouette of cherry blossom branches swaying outside. The moon casted a dull light into the dark bedroom and Hisashi reminded himself to purchase double A batteries for his son’s All Might nightlight. He allowed himself to lift a large hand, entangling his fingers into curly hair. His eyes fluttered and he indulged himself, allowing them to flutter shut after a few lazy attempts at fighting sleep.
He indulged as he felt his tense muscles relax, his chest almost sag at the weight of his exhaustion. His breaths were even, and his grip relaxed, his large hand falling to the side of his son’s head.
Vvzzzzttttt
Vvzzzzttttt
Vvzzzzttttt
Vvzzzzttttt
Hisashi startled awake, groaning as he blindly scrambled for his phone in his back pocket. One hand shielding his son’s face from the light, he checked the caller ID. He sighed, cautiously getting up, careful to not wake his son. The man tiptoed out of the boy's bedroom, gently closing the sliding door shut behind him, he answered the call.
“What is it?” He grits out in a sluggish drawl, sparing one last glance towards his son’s closed door before leaning against the wall.
“L-lord.” Akagi Katsumi’s breaths came in short puffs and Hisashi felt his patience thin like a wire, ready to snap at any moment. Hisashi folded an arm across his chest, propping his elbow on it as he glared daggers into the wooden floors, willing this conversation to hurry itself.
“All Might t-took down another one of our bases.” Hisashi sighed, feeling the start of a migraine flare up at the base of his skull. He pinched the space between his furrowed brows before uttering an impatient “continue”, causing the man on the other end the sputter.
“T-they found documents…” The sound of a hurried ruffling of papers was heard on the other line. “The place we raided yesterday… Was an office building. I’m still trying to figure out how they knew this place may belong to you but…” The imbecile paused as if a document in particular caught his attention. Hisashi would never admit that his heart paused right along with the man. Most of the bozo's raids against him were distribution centers containing their supply of quirk magnifiers and suppressants. Which… Took a financial hit to his empire but nothing he wasn’t accustomed to… Nothing that really mattered. He had yet to hit anything that Hisashi would consider a liability, and truthfully Hisashi never thought All Might ever would. With all the man’s speeches about justice and peace (speeches Izuku forced Hisashi to watch,) there wasn’t a real gamble with the imbecile. The hero was clearly an idealistic airhead with horrific fashion taste, the man never posed a true threat to his empire.
“L-Lord…” The man sounded hesitant to finish his thought, as if he feared that he might be struck dead at the simple utterance of his question, the ruffling of papers on the other line stopped, a beat passed and then-.
“Who’s Inko Midoriya?”
-Silence, the type of silence that clung to you like Arizona heat, the type that felt like a woodpecker chipping against his heart like a piece of mahogany, drilling him with anxiety. His fingers twitched… The lie fluttered off his tongue on blind instinct…
“Nobody.” And he only vaguely recognized how childish the word sounded between his teeth.
It grew quiet on the other line, but not quite enough for the racing thoughts bouncing against his skull. His throat felt dry, but 200 years of practiced ease came in handy, as he asked his next question.
“Why do you ask Akagi?” A threatening edge to an otherwise simple question, and Akagi understood the tone shift as he gulped, hastily adding. “Y-your accountants documents were recovered; bank statements being a part of it… It looks like a large sum of money is transferred to a joint bank account under the names Hisashi and Inko Midoriya…”
Hisashi Midoriya’s fingers tightened involuntarily around his phone, but he kept his voice even as he uttered his next words. “Who has all seen these documents?”
“I believe it was just me Lord… A-and possibly Sir Nighteye… But I don’t think these were their f-first concerns… You did a w-wonderful plow to distract them… They didn’t have the time to really look at the documents before they got to me.” His underling’s tone turned into one of reverence, but it all sounded the same to Hisashi… There was a low buzz behind his ears, something cold gripped his soul in an iron lock. His fingers twitched before tightening into a fist.
He hadn’t felt like this since…
Hisashi glanced back at the sign on his son’s bedroom door, ‘white like your hair’, he remembers Inko saying, 7 months pregnant, as she advised Hisashi to tilt the sign a little to the left. ‘Green like yours’ he’d retorted as he painted Izuku’s name onto its pristine surface.
There was silence for a moment, Hisashi took a breath in, letting a shaky breath out before he wet his lips.
“What was their concern?” What else did those heroes find?” Hisashi gritted out, turning his back to the sign, staring forward.
“I-I,” Akagi swallowed dryly, “They were looking at other documents… But I wasn’t able to get a look at them. I-I used my quirk to overhear their conversation a-and they are planning on looking into this address, they believe that whatever is at this location is of importance to you.”
The man paused on the other line, before another vibration from Hisashi’s phone alerted him to the picture he was sent.
A set of familiar cherry blossom trees framed the entrance of a grand Japanese style home, with welcoming screen doors and wooden pillars. The image had a tranquility to it that mocked Hisashi’s hummingbird heart, the treacherous thing fluttering around causing his gut to twist. Hisashi sucked in a breath that felt too shallow.
“Do they know what it is yet?” He asked tentatively, carefully devoid of any emotion.
“No… Lord, before they could look into it further you attacked again… They didn’t have the time.” Akagi responded.
Hisashi exhaled. “I don’t care what you have to do, retrieve those documents and destroy them.”
The spy hesitated, “but they already know th-”
“I DON’T CARE.” Hisashi was alarmed by the rage in his own voice. He felt like he was underwater, the words muddled and his vision blurry. He let out a few ragged breaths, taking a moment to choose his next words wisely.
“Akagi Katsumi.” ‘Akagi’s breath hitched on the other line. “I hope you haven’t forgotten what’s at stake.” The man audibly gulped on the other side of the phone.
“You are to retrieve those documents from those ridiculous heroes and destroy them.” Hisashi punctuated his point with venom in each word. As if he put enough murderous intent than it could fix this mistake, take back what was already known. As if enough thinly veiled threats could make those heroes forget the vital information they knew. And maybe, it would’ve worked, with some heroes it was surprisingly effective. However, All Might was far too bone-headed to take the bait and forget with the right check or threat thrown his way.
“I’ll do my b-best Si-” Hisashi hung up the phone before his subordinate could finish his sentence, desperately needing time to catch his breath.
The quiet was suffocating as he weakly dropped his phone to his side. There was a faint buzz ringing in his ears as his body went cold. His breaths becoming short puffs,
There was an itch, a twitch in his fingers. He tentatively pressed his palm flat across his chest, feeling the rapid pulse of his heart, he clenched his eyes shut. Emotions he didn’t understand, physical reactions to an indisputable truth that he didn’t want to believe.
The location of the house was dropped; they can tie the villain All for One and Midoriya Hisashi, linking them to this location. His hobby, a relaxing oasis, one only he knew about, at least that used to be the case, would be known by the world.
Anything that fanboy Nighteye knew, All Might knew, and anything All Might knew…
The Hero Commission knew…
The merry band of self-righteous Hero Commissioners. A corrupt governmental agency that has a tenacity for recruiting child soldiers with the promise of glory, only to throw them into the mercenary gig.
However, Hisashi knew that’s not what they would do if they found them…
Hisashi clenched his eyes shut, causing sparks of white dots to color his vision.
They found them….
It’s become complicated, inconvenient, and for a simple distraction it wasn’t worth fighting over. Hisashi didn’t enjoy the thought of what the Hero Commision might do to them, Izuku in particular. To avoid future complications, he knew he’d have to put his money where his mouth was. It was time to discard his silly little toys and focus on his main goal. Even with his little predicament, he was still a monster. He’d killed for much less than this.
Hisashi turned towards the door, hand pressed against the painted cedar frames ready to throw the door open. He stared down at his stalled hand, unable to muster the strength to push the door open. He mentally cursed himself, this was his goal. His life’s purpose could be hindered by any weak points. And he learned the hard way what happened when he had gaps in his armor. It was best to be rid of the issue before it developed further.
He could be rid of those ridiculous little aches by getting rid of the source, he rationalized.
Humanity was wasted on a monster like him, not when it threatened to cause upheaval to everything he’s ever fought for.
Hisashi sought to be strong, unbeatable in both mind and body. He was a real monster, the creature that made children cry and heroes shake in their boots.
The Demon Lord…
The Heros’ Boogeyman…
But Hisashi could barely remember the last time he did anything truly deserving of his reputation. Every crime was petty child’s play, not the same atrocities he was accustomed to committing.
Hisashi followed the green curves of the kanji of Izuku’s name, and found himself distracted, preoccupied.
His eyes fell to his palm resting against the wooden frame of the child’s door. The bitter taste of irony twinging his tongue, almost making him gag.
With all of Izuku’s hero worship, Hisashi wonders what the child would think if he knew the most feared man in Japan was slowly slipping from his empire. Not because of the brute force of societies ‘beaming light’ but from a quirk obsessed 4-year-old who was too smart for his own good.
Hisashi was losing his vigor, he was growing soft.
This was bound to happen eventually, he supposed.
With all his quirks, intelligence, and charisma, with the adoration of an entire criminal underworld, he was still happier analyzing quirks with a 4-year-old. His goals, 200-year-old aspirations within his desperate grasp were faltering, slipping through his clumsy fingers.
And… While it was like a nightmare… He found himself uncaring.
He was beginning to love Hisashi, far more than he ever loved All for One…
And… Now was the time to correct his misstep, a simple miscalculation.
He recognized his weak point, his small lapse in judgment. So, why didn’t that make this easier?
He found his hand dropping limply to his side, he felt boneless, eyes unseeing as he stared forward.
“They found them.” He whispers.
A beat of silence passes.
“They found you.” He glanced at Izuku’s name again, mouth feeling dry.
He took in a breath, closing his eyes.
A sensation wrapped its arms around the space where his heart should’ve been, embracing him like an old friend. Familiar, but almost forgotten, and Hisashi yearned to forget.
He remembered an empty room, cold to the touch without a trace of human warmth.
Despite the decades, the feeling that froze his chest was the same.
Cold… Panic swimming in a cocktail of questions and protectiveness.
He remembered being stolen from twice, twice in such a short period of time.
First, when he stood at the entrance of that cold room, empty walls stretched to empty floors.
He remembers the crippling fear, the confusion he felt. When he was young and cocky it was easy to believe no one could surprise him, let alone scare him. And no matter how many centuries pass, he’ll never forget the feeling of loss.
Then it went red…
Red that seeped through his minions' stomachs.
Red, like the color of that bastard’s eyes.
Red that caked between the divots in his fingers, the kind that stained the rubble below his feet.
Red that left behind the hand instead of the body.
Hisashi gripped his own wrist, blinking unseeing eyes open as he took a deep breath, letting it out.
‘They will take him away.’ His anxious heart stirred. He scoffed, “I never misstep, I always have an ace up my sleeve… Everything’ll be fine.”
“This isn’t the first time All Might got close to important operations; I will attend to it accordingly.” Hisashi whispered, wondering who he was trying to convince.
‘Remember the last time you got cocky. You believed you were unstoppable, that nothing would steal him from us, and how your misstep caused his death-’
“I didn’t kill him!” Hisashi shouted, his voice cracking an octave higher. He glanced down to his clasped hands, scrunching his eyes shut when he saw the dried blood caking between his nails.
“It was Kudou… He killed him… I-” He rasped, before taking a shuddering breath, exhaling. “I wouldn’t waste the energy.” He finished calmly. And he chose to believe it. Afterall what Demon Lord would waste their time killing their feeble little brother?
What Demon Lord would care about the feeble family he created, about his weak wife and his sensitive son? He tried to reason; he recited it in his head like a prayer.
He didn’t care about them, he didn't care about his brother, recited again, again, and again for good measure. And it gave him peace and allowed his grip on his wrist to weaken, some semblance of control coming back for the first time that night.
‘But then why don’t you just kill him?’ And Hisashi couldn’t answer that question.
‘Afterall, it’s better than the Hero Commision killing him themselves or using him as a weapon against you.’ And Hisashi found he agreed with that sentiment, for all his son’s hero worship of All Might, Izuku would easily be a larger threat level. His analysis, not only of quirks but people, was far past the average perception levels of a normal 4-year-old.
Hisashi felt sick as he turned his head, making eye contact with himself in the mirror at the end of the hall. He inhaled.
Red splattered across his cheeks, tainting the collar of his shirt, staining the bone white of his hair. He blinked and it disappeared, he exhaled.
Red against viridian curls, clumps of hair sticking together in caked tufts.
Red that descended between soft brows, a pointed nose, and cascading down a pure, freckled cheek.
Nails dug into his wrist, sending sparks of white-hot pain up his arm-
-A shriek comes from Izuku’s bedroom.
Hisashi throws Izuku’s door open, barely noticing the deafening slam that shook the whole house. He races to Izuku’s side, kneeling down by the child’s bed and throwing the covers off the child's form.
The child was curled in on himself, shaking hands covering a red face. Sobs ripped themselves through the boy's frame, Hisashi’s chest clenched.
“Izuku?” Hisashi barely heard his own voice speak as he lifted a trembling hand to the boy's arms, trying to pry them away from Izuku’s face.
After some resistance Izuku let his father move his arms down. His sobs were quieter now, but tears still cascaded down his face.
“Are you alright, my butterfly?” Hisashi cooed, pulling the child into his lap. He ran a hand through his son’s hair in a way he hoped was soothing.
Izuku wiped a few tears away as he blinked up at his father, as if he were seeing him for the first time. The child lunged forward, wrapping quivering arms around his father's neck in an embrace.
Hisashi pressed his fingertips into the base of Izuku’s skull, activating a quirk to check his vitals. He closed his eyes, frantically reading the report it provided him.
Elevated heart rate.
Short of breath.
Underlying exhaustion, overpowered by a high concentration of adrenaline in the bloodline.
Zero signs of physical harm, blood loss, head trauma, and a quick scan of his surroundings showed no sign of a third person or forced entry. Hisashi let out a reluctant sigh, steeling himself in the presence of his distressed child.
Hisashi ran his fingers through Izuku’s bedhead in an attempt to hide their tremor, a comforting smile masking the whirlwind of emotions brewing in his chest. He held his son tightly, making an occasional shushing noise in what he hoped was comforting.
Tiny hands clung to Hisashi’s dress shirt desperately, as if he’d fall apart if he was ever taken away, and Hisashi’s arms tightened in tandem.
He thought of Inko, rocking Izuku gently just the special way she always did. And the tightness in Hisashi’s chest lightened as Izuku’s sobs quieted to sniffles. He hummed a little lullaby under his breath until the child's vice grip weakened.
The child squirmed, trying to wiggle free from his father’s steely embrace, Hisashi let him so he could catch a glimpse of his son’s face.
Bloodshot green eyes carried the glossy edge of unshed tears as wet tracks paved their way down freckled cheeks. Izuku took the back of his sleeve rubbing it against his beet red nose, sniffing, Hisashi tusked.
He unwrapped one of his arms around Izuku to run a thumb across the boy’s cheek, only to pause.
He blinked, blanching at the sight before throwing his arms away from his child as if they could burn him.
Palms up he openly gaped at the sight of blood fresh on his porcelain skin.
A sickening red caked between his nails, cracked around the divots of his fingers, splattered across the broad expanse of his palms.
He bit the inside of his cheek.
Some splatters browned around the edges, suggesting an age Hisashi couldn’t fathom.
How had he not noticed the blood…?
How had Izuku not noticed the blood?!
It splattered in the same patterns, darkened at the same curves, crackling like fire in the same divots, burning him just the same. It looked exactly the same as when he lost Yoi-.
He tasted blood on his tongue.
“Papa?”
He blinked down at the child in lap, blank stare meeting worried greens eyes.
-chi…
His arms felt like lead as they dropped to his sides, hands curving around his knees. He sucked in a breath.
“It’s alright Izuku… Papa just got a little lost in thought is all.” Hisashi provided gently, crinkling his eyes in a weak smile.
He glanced behind his son at his hands, tense shoulders relaxing at the sight of untainted skin. He exhaled.
“I’m more worried about you, are you alright little one?” He asked, resting a reluctant hand against the child's hair.
Izuku nodded gaze dropping to his twisting fingers. “I-it was just a nightmare, Papa.”
Hisashi hummed, fingers carding idly through his curls, contemplating his next words. “What was it about?” He whispered.
“It was nothing much… Really really silly.” Izuku mumbled.
“It must not have been too silly, or you would have woken up laughing instead of screaming.” Hisashi challenged.
The child was silent for a moment, worrying his bottom lip in anxiety.
“I-I” Izuku paused before continuing, “In my dream, you went to work a-and y-you were attacked by a monster and never came back.” He mumbled, not meeting his father's eyes.
Hisashi hummed, as Izuku quickly spluttered “I-I know that would never happen. Papa is really strong, and there are heroes too so-”
“It’s not silly.” Hisashi interrupted.
“I have nightmares too.” He continued. Izuku paused, watching him wide-eyed before scrubbing an arm over his eyes to get rid of the stray tears. “Really, Papa?” The child questioned, Hisashi nodded numbly.
“They’re much the same as yours, little butterfly.” He ran a hand through the child's hair, his child’s hair.
“I sometimes…” He paused, feeling the weight of what he’s about to admit, something he can never take back, something he’s not sure he wants to take back. He closes his eyes. “I fear that I’ll lose you and your mother to a monster too.”
The room was quiet, peaceful like a rolling stream. Hisashi felt the weight lift from his chest, savored it even as his eyes watered around the edges.
The tears never fell…
“But…” He paused, “that will never happen. Just like your nightmare, it’ll stay in our dreams.” Izuku nodded, large green eyes staring at something akin to understanding.
Hisashi opened his eyes, meeting his son’s soft gaze he uttered a promise, “Your Papa’s strong Izuku, I’ll never let anything happen to you guys. I’ll never let anything happen to us.” He finished, Izuku nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Hisashi smiled back, but it didn’t reach his eyes. And Izuku saw it, saw the words, emotions that were being hidden away for his sake. And he wrapped his small arms around his father, with an understanding a child so young should not possess.
Hisashi returned the embrace with fervor, nestling his face into his son’s hair. “I’m right here,” He whispered, and Izuku’s grip tightened in response. “Me too, Papa.” He responded.
And Hisashi stayed still, not daring to withdraw, not daring to stir this precious moment. He didn’t know when he’d get this opportunity again, if ever.
So, he stayed, until Izuku’s grip weakened.
Until his son’s breaths turned deep.
Until little snores filled the dull room with warmth.
Until his red gaze flitted about the room, from oak floorboards to eggshell walls, finally landing on the gaudy poster hung with tacks on the wall.
His head ached at the sight of the obnoxious yellows, reds, and blues of Japan’s little puppet.
His eyes landed on the hero's face, but he barely registered it.
Instead of a sharp jawline with sunken eyes and a garish grin, he saw red eyes set with petulant determination. Pasty skin stead of tan, torn like paper down the middle with a barbaric scar.
His subordinate's earlier findings rang like a bell in his head. He held his son closer, hand possessively tangling itself in unruly curls, pressing his face into his baby’s hair as his eyes remained transfixed by the poster.
The room was silent but felt so loud all the same. The edges of his eyes stung.
But no tears fell.
His throat felt dry- “I-” cracking like broken glass, until reenforcing like titanium.
“I will keep them away Izuku…” He whispered, glaring at the familiar face in front of him.
Kudou…
“They will never hurt you… Never hurt us…”
“They will never take you from me…” He finished, vulnerable in the dark room. Glaring at his enemy's poster, he made a promise he intended to keep. And he accepted what that said about him… he accepted the yearn to stay, and fought it all the same, as he laid his sleeping child in his bed. Wrapping him up in his blankets just like Izuku liked and kissing his forehead. Promising to destroy everything and praying he’ll return; he exited his bedroom. Sliding the door closed, he set his eyes forward.
‘All for the sake of his hob-family…'
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Garaki Kyūdai always had a mixed reaction to his Lord’s calls; first he’d experience euphoria, delighted whenever the man needed anything from Garaki, alongside it stood the hesitation. The unbridled anxiety that racked his old heart. Concerns regarding their most recent projects, whether his work was satisfactory to his Lord.
Recently, Garaki would be lucky if he even received one phone call from his Lord, which is very unlike him. Some weeks it would be one call wanting a weekly report instead of daily, which… Garaki never wanted to doubt his Lord, he knew the man was surely very busy recently with All Might’s recent boost in activity, it was only natural.
However, spontaneous late night house calls were very uncommon for his Lord. When the man’s blinding contact ID flashed on his phone's screen at 4:00 AM, his exhaustion ebbed to budding anticipation. He immediately accepted, hurrying out a polite greeting for his Master.
Lord’s voice was odd, it was muted with slight undertones of something, almost solemn. It was so unlike the normal confidence, bravado that his voice carried. Garaki’s hairless brow line crinkled.
“Doctor Garaki, how is our most recent project?”
‘Doctor’ Garaki blinked dumbly before promptly responding “It’s all done Sire, operation 1041 is ready to go... However, I must express my curiosity, whose quirk do you want to block?” He questioned, flexing his fingers in anticipation.
Yes, his Lord has been acting quite odd recently (now would Doctor Garaki ever admit that observation to his Lord, never, lest he surely die a fiery death,) he had postponed his Nomu project in favor of this new venture. Something much simpler, truly, but never before had the Lord wanted to block someone's quirk. Afterall, Lord’s own quirk was a perfect match to steal any power he wanted. What was the purpose of blocking a quirk? Why not steal it?
It had to be something that couldn’t be stolen, right? But there was only one that was capable of evading Sire’s clutches.
“You should be expecting a new patient to be added to your list, Doctor Tsubasa. Izuku Midoriya, the boy is 4, and his quirk is yet to make an appearance. You will execute Plan: 1041. The boy’s records will be labeled as quirkless.” His lord rattled off, almost too robotically. He paused and the Doctor waited, “You’ve tested the device before, I’m sure?” He inquired.
Garaki nodded before finally responding, “Of course Sire, I’ve tested it on a few Nomus and some of our more cognitive specimens as well. It’s done no damage. It’s quite amazing, the brain scans make it look like there was no quirk at all!” The Doctor gloated, pride warming his chest at his Sire’s hum of acknowledgement.
A sigh on the other line, then- “Alright… Just make sure that it is effective, not damaging, I want no harm to come of the child.”
Interesting, ‘no harm to come of the child’ very unlike the man, Garaki mused. Sire must be using the child for something important; it was unlike him to care for the wellbeing of a weak 4-year-old. But Garaki would obey never-the-less.
“Of course, Sire.” He replied dutifully,
“The device requires you to put the child to sleep, correct?” Lord clarified.
Garaki hummed, “Yes, Sire. I’ve noticed some… Unpleasant reactions, while the subjects are awake during the operation.” Fighting, it was quite funny, the subjects while awake would fight. Even the most braindead Nomu would fight tooth and nail, desperately trying to keep their quirks. He would’ve told his Sire this funny observation if he thought it would’ve been appreciated. However, the man didn’t seem to be in the mood for humor.
“While asleep, I want you to wipe the child’s memories as well… It would be more convenient for the child to not remember much of the interaction. All he needs to remember is his mother, himself, and his… friends” Garaki blinked, a manic grin curling his cheeks like a Cheshire cat.
Now he understood, he almost slapped himself for not catching on sooner. He just needed clarification before he could make his final judgment.
“Do you want me to leave certain memories, Lord?” He offered as an innocent suggestion, stubby fingers fiddling with his bedsheets. “Do you want me to leave the trauma?” Like Tomura, make the child easier to mold like clay.
“No, I have no use for this child any longer.” Lord said with finality.
“Is it just the child I have to worry about, or is there someone else?”
Lord paused at that, hesitating, no, contemplating, analyzing the best-case scenario before striking.
“The Mother, just her memories. Make a simple excuse to use the device on her. The child will be added to your books for a quirk diagnosis. That isn’t out of reach for you, I’m sure Doctor.” He finished; the Doctor hummed in response.
What did they need to forget?
“Of course, Lord.” He uttered reverently.
“What office are we working out of for this lovely family?” Garaki grinned. There were times he’d yearned for a quirk similar to Sire’s, to be able to look at a quirk and not only take but see what it can do. He’d love to know what quirk little Izuku could possess that could be such a threat, or even know why Lord didn’t just take the quirk for himself. But he unfortunately lacked in that department, he’d have to wait, hoping his Lord could give him more answers.
“This will take place out of your Musutafu office, Doctor Tsubasa. Inko Midoriya will call to set up the appointment next week,”
They don’t work in that office as much, is that where the family is located?
“They are new patients; do they live in the city?” Doctor questioned, he almost smacked himself, anxiety rising in his heart. He gnawed at his bottom lip. His Lord wasn’t too keen on too many questions.
His Lord paused before continuing. “They’re new to the city.”
Vague… not hostile, surprisingly, just vague, and almost detached.
“What of the father?” Garaki questioned with a little more confidence. There must be some tie, something of interest in this little family that would drag his Master’s attention away so easily.
And as if sensing the underlying inquiry, Sire provided something a little more interesting.
“... Hisashi Midoriya, he currently works overseas in America. By this time next week, he’ll only ever have been an absent figure in their lives.” He stated simply, Garaki smiled.
Bingo… Right again…
Of course, the interest wasn’t just in the child completely, but the father as well. This wasn’t uncommon, causing certain people to disappear, wiping the civilians' memories so they are never looked for. It was an old cat and mouse game they played. A debt unpaid, a striking new quirk, or even an enemy, all scenarios ended in the same result. Garaki grinned.
“Of course, my Lord.” Garaki muttered adoringly. And just like that their lovely conversation was over, the line cut far too soon for Garaki’s liking. Still, an addicting thrum stirred his heart all the same.
Quirks were like a beautiful set of wings, a myriad of colors making up the set of drawbacks and strengths of the power. It was beautiful and frightful, and something Garaki adored. Many may look at his job as evil, heartless, cruel, however he disagrees. He’s allowing mortals to experience the level of power his Master is capable of reaching. He's allowing their lives to carry meaning instead of just dying accomplishing nothing.
Now don’t get him wrong, he was only human. And he felt guilty, stripping a child so young of ever experiencing having a quirk was devastating. Especially when they generally did the opposite, giving power instead of just taking it. Unfortunately, to reach your goals some may suffer.
And unfortunately, little Izuku’s wings will have to be clipped far too soon.