Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Hanta is struggling to breathe in the smoke, even with his makeshift mask (the collar of his hero suit) tucked beneath his visor. The tinted tempered glass isn’t helping him look through the crumbling building- it’s more practical against bright lights and uv rays. 

Great as oversized sunglasses, horrible for search and rescue in a black-aired space. 

Hanta stoops lower, ducking beneath a diagonal beam that looks like it may fall again, cursing quietly when it cracks over him. 

“Hello? Is there anyone else here? I’m here to help.”

Hanta muffles a cough in his shirt, straining to hear anything more than shifting ruble and the distant cracking of fire.  

He’s reached the final floor that’s accessible, the fourth and fifth floor have collapsed above him and if he’s not quick, the third will likely follow shortly after. He can hear the warning in the support beams as they groan. 

The hallway ends abruptly when he turns the corner, dead ending to a fire exit, morbidly enough. He doubles back, ducking between the doors left open and checking any that are closed. Many are too hot to touch and he backs away with a frown, hoping the rooms have been vacated. 

“Cellophane, this is Group Two checking in. Have you found any more civilians? Over.”

Hanta scans the last open door, seeing no movement inside, and sighs. “Cellophane here, no more civilians spotted. Clearance from the windows outside? Over.”

The com crackles as his line cuts on. “Group One leader here, Cellophane, you look clear from out here. No signs of life from outside. Over.”

Hanta closes his eyes and calculates the number of evacuated civilians, those contacted and confirmed elsewhere at the time of the fire versus the estimated number of people who lived in the apartment building. Not enough. 

“I was afraid of that. I’m headed down now, the structure is about to give. Have the surrounding evacuation lines pushed back. It’s not going to fall cleanly. Over.”

There’s an affirmative response before Hanta starts down the stairs. He’s going slow, listening to the stairs as he steps lightly- that’s the only reason he hears it. 

His foot pauses, hanging over the step below him as he cranes his head back over his shoulder. 

His heart constricts, stops and jerks to a start all in a breath as a weak cry rings down the hall. 

Hanta is supposed to page through if he’s going back, it’s protocol. 

Protocol is the last thing on his mind as his body turns so quickly he nearly loses his footing, sprinting back up the stairs to shove against the metal door between him and the child trapped in the building. 

Hanta heaves, fighting his adrenaline and the smoke inhalation choking his lungs. 

He stops in the hallway, heart racing and ears strained so hard he can hear the blood rushing through his veins. 

Please, he begs, just one more noise, anything. 

The ringing silence mocks him and Hanta pushes down the sourness that rises. He can’t give up hope yet. 

Please, please, please. 

A dull thump, small and unassuming. Hanta’s head whips towards the far end of the hallway, long legs the biggest blessing in carrying him the distance as quick as possible. 

The door is locked, but that isn’t what stops him for a moment. The metal knob is scorching to the touch, warning him before he even opens it. It speaks of the inferno lying in wait just behind the surface. 

He sends one ‘fuck it’ up to heaven before he rams against the door. 

It splinters apart under the force easily, bursting outward in an explosion of pressure and biting flames. Hanta is knocked on his ass from the intensity, staring inside at the wall of flame. It seems more like an ocean, vast and impossible to cross. 

Hanta squeezes his eyes shut tightly, shaking himself. “You’re a hero. You can do this.”

He pushes up, kicking off the floor and shooting tape at the clearest section of the burning apartment he can see, yanking himself through with a yell. 

The heat stings at first, and then it scorches. Hanta would scream if the flames weren’t ripping the oxygen from his lungs. 

He doesn’t realise he’s landed somewhere mostly untouched by fire for a minute, body searing, feeling as if it’s still burning from the radiating heat. He groans, pulling his elbows beneath his body to lift up. His entire body protests and he slumps back to the floor, face pressed to the wooden planks. It stings at his jaw and up his cheek. 

Must be burned, he thinks to himself. 

The fire flickers feet away, blurring as his vision goes unfocused. It’s pretty, he thinks absentmindedly, for something so destructive. 

He chokes on a laugh, a coughing fit triggered shortly after. Of course he’d find something so dangerous to be pretty, especially if it were seconds from killing him. 

His com crackles and something rings out in the silence. He notices then that it’s fallen out of his ear and skidded a few inches away. It yells something at him, he hears his name and an urgent question. 

Hanta has half a mind to ignore it, but a half-decade of instinct has him reaching for it. He grabs it, cradling it in his palm. 

His mind is fuzzy, like the smoke has invaded there too, and he wonders if he plans on dying like this, from a half-assed rescue mission. 

At least everyone is out. 

Hanta closes his eyes and breathes out heavily. 

This wasn’t so bad, this hero thing. 

Five good years of rescuing people. He was useful for a while. Kind of makes up for how mediocre he is. 

There’s a slight smile tugging at his mouth now. 

His Tía is going to bring him back just to kill him again. 

“ Giving up is for pendejos and your Tío ! ”

She always had an odd way of believing in him. 

Hanta was pretty content with being a failure, he’s been doing it his whole life it seems. What’s one more for the big finale?

Hanta has just come to terms with it all, his less than stellar record, his ultimately unremarkable and uninspiring life. 

A short summary of Sero Hanta’s achievements: became a pro hero and wasted the title for five years before perishing in a burning building. 

He expels another quiet cough, rolling onto his back with a weak grunt. He’s content, really. This is fine. He was fine with dying. Accepted death with open arms and all. 

And then there had been that cry, a soft thing, almost imagined, but so close that Hanta had to look. Shifted his head back, hair scraping across the floor- when had he lost his helmet? 

Hanta’s internal monologue of acceptance flies completely out the window as he spots the small bundle, no bigger than his forearm. 

Dark eyes lock onto his own, reflecting the bright fire closing in. Time, the Earth’s rotation, the very Universe itself seems to halt for a moment, the quiet brilliance of lightning before the ground-shaking noise of thunder. 

‘Don’t give up, pendejo.’

The Universe sounds a lot like his Tía . 

Hanta curses a few choice words under his breath and hauls himself up, pulling his knees under himself and pushing up with his elbows, struggling beneath his own weight threatening to collapse. 

The child watches him, way too solemn for such a young age and his resolve strengthens a bit. The tremor in his legs fades to white noise as he scoots forward, kneeling by the bundle. A tiny hand reaches out and Hanta lets the child hold his thumb with a broken sob. 

“I’m sorry I almost gave up. You needed a hero, not me.”

The child’s hand tightens around his finger and Hanta chuckles weakly. “You saying I’ll do?”

Dark eyes look up and Hanta is swallowed by how large they are, bright and full of innocence.

“Okay. Okay, yeah. Let’s go then, baby.”

Hanta scoops the child up, cradling them in the crook of his elbow and it’s as he rises on unsteady legs that he notices the perfect circle around the child, untouched by the fire and smoke. 

His eyes land on a charred hand a foot away, hidden by a half-wall and the simmering fire, and he understands that no miracle saved the child, but the dying act of a desperate parent. He has to see to it that they didn’t die in vain protecting their child. 

His com is still digging into his palm as he surveys the room, knowing he can’t make it back through the fire. He pops the device in his ear and taps the side. 

“Cellophane requesting backup. Over.”

His voice sounds hoarse to his own ears. 

His feed cracks loudly and a panicked voice shouts over the line. “Sero! We thought you were dead! Where are you?”

Hanta coughs into his hand, tearing a strip of his suit off to wrap around the child’s face. 

“Hey Denki. Thought you were on patrol in section four? You forgot to say over. Over.”

“I was told your dumbass was dead or dying!” The com clicks off and then back on. “Over!”

Hanta chuckles to himself. “Yeah. Might be if you can’t get me out. I’m on the third floor, room 411. The door is blocked by fire. Actually, everything is blocked by fire. Over.”

The com crackles and feedback pours through, Denki relaying his message along with several other voices flowing through. “Shit. Okay. Dude, we can’t get in. The entrance has collapsed fully and half of the second floor has caved in, so the first floor is a goner too.” Denki goes quiet. “There’s no way in, Hanta. We can’t get to you.”

Hanta backs towards the wall as the fire inches forward, eating at the floor and the cabinets. “Yeah. Okay. So help me get out. I, uh. Denki, there’s a kid. A baby.” He doesn’t bother closing his line. Denki will know that’s all he can say. 

His earpiece is quiet, but the background noise lets him know Denki is still there. 

A sharp shuffle, the brush of fabric against the microphone, before a sharp voice growls through the line. “You there, Tape Face?”

Hanta barks a laugh, edging towards hysterical. “Ah fuck, not you. You all really don’t think I’m gonna make it.”

“Can it. You’re gonna make it, dumbass. Now listen up because I’m saying this once and then you’re getting your stupid ass out of there. Unit 411 has three windows. One in the bedroom, one in the kitchen and one in the living room. The kitchen window is too small for your lanky ass and from what we can see the bedroom window is completely blocked by fire. Get to the living room and get the fuck out. We have a ladder and rig stationed close by if you can get out.”

Hanta inches along the wall, cradling the baby closer as the fire whooshes dangerously close. “Living room, of course. Totally accessible.”

Bakugo is eerily calm when he responds. “Get out of there, Sero. You and that kid better not die on my watch.”

Hanta clicks his tongue but doesn’t tap back onto his com. Typical Bakugo. 

He loves the bastard, even if he’d like to strangle him right now. 

The living room is the next room over, close by all means, but there’s a charred body and a wall of fire standing in his way. It’s not as bad as the front door, but he’s hesitant to say he can make it through a second time. 

He tears off a strip of his tape, winding it around the child and his chest in a makeshift sling harness. 

“Hold on, bud.”

Hanta leaps without thinking, letting instinct push him forward, closing his eyes as he swings through the flames, hoping if he imagines it hard enough, he’ll believe he’s just swinging through the city. 

His daydream crashes when his feet hit the window as the glass shatters outward with an explosion of noise. The baby is held so tightly against his chest he’s almost worried he might be crushing them. He tucks his chin and smiles at the shining eyes, unfazed. Impressive. 

“Sero! Trust Fall Torpedo!”

Hanta is familiar with the manoeuvre, shooting tape in a long arc towards the nearest solid structure, letting it hold as he extends his tape slower the further he gets towards the ground. His elbow screams in protest, as it always does, black dots dancing across his vision as he focuses on keeping the small bundle in his arms. 

He crashes into a familiar warm brick wall, aka Bakugo Katsuki, or Bakugo crashes into him, and that’s enough for his brain to decide fucking off right now is appropriate. 

He passes out with the comfort that the child is probably safe now, even if Bakugo is barking at him like an angry dog. 

…

“Aw man, really? But it just came out!”

“I know! But that’s what Jirou said!”

Hanta is very confused to hear Denki and Mina as he wakes up. He doesn’t remember inviting the gang over. He rolls his head to the side, scrunching his eyes and moving to wipe at them. When he yanks at something and his arm comes up short, he attempts to open his eyes. 

Yellow colours his vision, swirled shortly after with pink. 

“Sero! Dude!”

Arms surround his shoulders and a wheezing cough is strangled out of him. 

“Denki!”

Mina yanks their friend back and Hanta struggles to stamp out the tickle in his throat. 

Denki, less blurry around the edges now that Hanta is waking up, rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, a habit he picked up from Shinsou no doubt. 

“Sorry, dude. I’m just so glad you’re not dead.”

Mina is still smiling as she smacks him in the back of the head. “He still has no tact after all these years.” Her eyes soften and her voice is equally soft when she speaks next. “But we’re all really glad you pulled through. It was a close call, you know. You inhaled about half the damn building’s smoke.”

She thins her mouth in an attempt to look disapproving, but Hanta can see the wobble of her bottom lip. 

He places his hand palm-up at the edge of the bed and she grabs his hand like a lifeline. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare anyone. I was…” Hanta’s brows try to touch as he reaches back for his reasoning. There’s an insistence at the front of his brain, like he’s forgotten something important. 

Mina squeezes his hand and Denki leans forward on his toes, towards her. “The kid?”

It hits Hanta as Denki speaks. The smell of heat and smoke, dark eyes full of calm, the smash of glass and the feeling that he had saved someone. 

He jerks up as far as his hospital bed will allow, tied down by tubes and various needles. 

“The kid! Did…?” He doesn’t finish the sentence, just looks between his friends as they share a look. They look sad and Hanta feels his chest lurch. 

“No…”

Mina’s eyes widen and she scrambles, shaking her hands. “No. No, she’s fine! It’s just. Well,  she’s…an orphan now. They’re trying to find a solution that won’t start a media sensation. You know if they shove her in foster care or anything similar that people are going to be outraged.”

Hanta leans back a little, scooting up the bed to sit up more. “What do you mean? Orphans end up in the system all the time. I hate it just as much as anyone else, but that’s just how things go.”

Denki raises an eyebrow at Mina and she raises one back and Hanta sits back with a sigh as they have one of their silent conservations. They’ll get back to him eventually.  

Denki leans towards him rather suddenly, phone thrust out. “So basically you burst through the window like some grand hero, covered in soot and looking all dramatic with a baby strapped to you like it was your own and it was super dramatic and heroic and hot- ow!” Denki rubs his sore arm that Mina just punched. “Well, they’re saying it too!”

Mina takes Denki’s phone and taps on the video pulled up. “Look.”

She holds the screen towards him and Hanta watches a shaky view of the apartment from below, fire billowing from several blown-out windows as multiple voices yell out. He vaguely registers Bakugo’s rough voice and Denki’s fluttering panic before the third story window at the far end on the right bursts outward. The crowd falls silent and the view zooms in on him, face set in stone, covered in soot with a wicked burn down the side of his cheek and across his jaw. His fingers lift up to touch the skin to find it’s taped up with gauze. 

The Hanta on screen cradles a small bundle of fabric, looking down at them with a smile before Denki yells out a warning for their Trust Fall Torpedo, one of the many ideas the Bakusquad had come up with in third year. Precautionary measure at the time, mostly to aid in team work. It’s scary how often they found themselves relying on one another. 

Him most of all. 

The video cuts short after he passes out, finger gripped tight in the fabric wrapped around the child and Hanta sighs. 

“So?”

Mina clicks her tongue at him, admonishing. “So? So, you’re the big hero of the day! Everyone wants to be you or be with you! Or be the child in your arms? I don’t know, it gets weirder the longer you scroll on twitter, that’s not the point. Point is you and that baby have been bound by the red string of social media and I think there’ll be an uproar if this isn’t handled properly.” She nudges Denki with a cackle. “They probably expect him to become her dad!” 

Denki snorts, doubling over in laughter and Hanta’s mouth thins in impatience he can’t understand. 

Is the idea so far-fetched? 

“Can you imagine! Sero as a dad!”

Mina laughs with him before turning to Hanta, most likely expecting a smile at the least. Her laughter sobers quickly when she sees his face. 

“Sero?”

“Is that so hard to imagine?” He doesn’t look up, staring instead at his knuckles fisted in the white sheets of the hospital bed. They’re scratchy beneath his calloused fingers.

“Well, it’s not… It’s just…” Mina quiets. “I didn’t know you’d ever thought about it before.”

Hanta looks to his left, out the small window that looks over the city. It’s going on sunset now, meaning he’s lost at least twenty-four hours. 

He sighs shakily, mouth tilting up to reassure her. “I know. Neither had I.”

Denki nudges his knee. “Hey dude, I wasn’t making fun of you. Not seriously. You’d be a great dad if you wanted. You’re kind and funny and I know you’d bring a ton of light to any kid's life, yeah?”

Hanta looks over to his friends finally, his irritation having bled away as quickly as it came. “Yeah.”

The door crashes open then with a bang and a tornado of noise. Bakugo whirls in with a sharp scowl, a tray of drinks, and several choice words he seems to be shouting at a trembling nurse by the door. 

“Fuck off! If a coffee can kill him, then his ass is too weak! You saying I make weak friends? Hah?”

Hanta shakes his head with a grin. “Aw, he called me his friend.”

Bakugo slams the door shut with his foot, grumbling the entire way over. “No caffeine. Bad for his heart. Unwise my ass.” Bakugo stops at the bed and Hanta notices the soot still smeared at his hairline. It speaks volumes more than any words Bakugo could attempt to choke out. 

A cold drink is promptly shoved at him and he takes it, popping the lid off to inspect it, laughing when he finds water. “You gave that nurse a heart attack and a subsequent panic attack because you couldn’t just tell them it was water?”

Bakugo grins devilishly, tossing the tray down on the side table for Mina and Denki to fight over, sipping his own black coffee. “I can’t be seen being nice. Imagine what that would do to my reputation.”

Hanta rolls his eyes before sipping his water, relief spreading down his throat at the coolness. “You’re dating Midoriya, Japan’s Sweetheart, your reputation is that of a house pet.”

Bakugo curls his lip and flips him off, a rather tame response. 

“So what are you doing about the kid?” Bakugo snaps his lid back on, leaning forward on his knees to stare at Hanta seriously. 

Hanta tips his water from side to side, listening to the ice hit the walls of the cup for a moment. “What do you think I should do?”

Bakugo scoffs, but his expression remains serious.  A glance to the side shows Hanta that Mina and Denki are just as focused on him, faces level with the severity of the circumstances. 

“I think you already know what you wanna do.”

He’s not wrong. 

He’s pretty sure he knew the moment he saw the child, eyes dark as his own, and that hand peeking from behind the wall. He’d never really had a choice. 

He clears his throat. “I should probably get some rest so I can get out of here.”

Bakugo grins and it’s almost soft. “Damn right.”

…

Hanta spends the next week in recovery, unfortunately, having sustained serious third-degree burns over half his body, including the one on his jaw. 

The smoke inhalation is so bad he needs help breathing from a machine, and he somehow managed to end up with fractured ribs (he’s gonna guess that’s courtesy of their torpedo move. It’s not exactly the safest manoeuvre). There are also various scrapes and bruises along his entire body, so it’s safe to say he’s been in better shape. 

His week-long stay in the hospital is thankfully cut short when Recovery Girl is flown out to check up on him (she’d been visiting her granddaughter at the time and Hanta felt horrible that she cut her visit short to heal him. She whacked him over the head with her cane and he promptly shut up).  

“Alright, young man. I don’t want to see you back in the hospital again for at least the next year, understood?”

Hanta sweats under the pressure of her gaze until she cracks a grin.

“No promises, Chiyo-san.”

She talks with his doctor for a bit and then he’s deemed suitable enough to be released, but only if he sticks to desk duty for the next month. Apparently his respiratory system is properly fucked and he’s not allowed back in the field until he’s cleared. 

Normally, the idea would have him groaning in annoyance, but there’s another thought on his mind at the moment. 

He ends up going to Midoriya of all people to sort out his problem. 

His phone rings twice before Midoriya picks up. 

“Sero-kun! I heard you were just released from the hospital! How are you feeling?”

Hanta is changing in the stall of the hospital bathroom, phone pressed between his cheek and shoulder. He silently notes how odd the glass feels against the fresh scar tissue. 

“Uh. Mostly fine? Don’t make me laugh anytime soon or I may cough a lung out, but you know. Good.”

Midoriya laughs lightly. “I get it! Been there before. How long are you on desk duty?”

Hanta snorts, tugging on his jeans. “Month.”

Midoriya whistles lowly. “Damn. You’ve got me beat. My record for smoke inhalation is two weeks.”

Hanta buttons his jeans and stares at the door as if staring at his friend in disapproval. “That is not something you should have a record for.”

“Fair.”

Hanta shakes his head with a small laugh, tapping the speaker button before setting his phone on the small shelf to the side, reaching for his shirt. “Not that I don’t love you or don’t wanna catch up, but I do admittedly have a reason for calling.”

Midoriya hums and Hanta can hear him clicking a pen. “I figured! You’re calling about the baby girl you rescued, right?”

Hanta tugs his shirt into place, thumbing a wrinkle at the bottom. His voice comes out oddly detached. “Yeah.”

Midoriya’s voice drops to match his. “I figured.” He’s silent for a moment, save for the patterned click of his pen. A habit he’s always had. Hanta can even imagine the way he’s doing it — click click, spin, click click, spin. “I have her file and the number for her assigned agent. They haven’t decided what to do with her yet, I’m sure you’ve heard.”

He has. It rattles around in his head like a loose marble. 

“Denki and Mina told me.”

The line is silent again. 

Click click, spin. 

“Sero-kun?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you? I can hear it in your voice.”

Hanta shoves on his shoes as an afterthought before he leaves the stall. 

“Yeah, I am.”

Midoriya hasn’t even said anything and Hanta can hear his smile. “I’ll email over her file.”

Hanta stops in front of the mirrors, noting the fresh pink scar along the left side of his face. It looks like it should be tender, but it’s mostly numb to the touch. 

“Thanks, Midoriya. I owe you one.”

Midoriya snorts, pen clicking in the background. “Oh, please. At least let me do something worth a favour, then we’ll talk.”

“Can you get me a hug from Bakugo?”

Midoriya hums in thought. “That costs two .”

Hanta turns away from his reflection, grinning at the teasing tone in his friend’s voice. “Damn. The economy is brutal nowadays.”

“You should have seen it ten years ago.”

A Bakugo just before UA? Hanta shudders at the thought. 

“I wouldn’t have wanted to!”

…

Hanta has seen the movies about adoption and they do not depict the struggle accurately. 

Attempting adoption with a recently orphaned child of tragedy with no records and no name? Ten times worse. 

“So what does that mean for me?”

The woman across from him is grey in most aspects: grey hair, grey eyes, grey suit, grey shoes. He’s positive her socks are grey, but he can’t see them. He’s trying to keep his spirits up by imagining they’re brightly coloured and dog-themed. 

“Currently she has no legal name, no legal documents of any kind, to be exact. Were she put under governmental care, all documents would be taken care of and she would be assigned a randomly generated surname. The process is not so easy for someone who is not the government.”

Hanta folds his hands in front of him. staring her down. “I’m not concerned with easy. I’m asking you what I need to do in order to adopt her. Properly. I’ll sign whatever I need to sign, I’ll do whatever paperwork has to be done, and I’ll do it for as long as it takes. Can you help me or not?”

The agent looks at him for a long moment, assessing his face. “Perhaps I misread you initially, Sero-san. If you’re serious about adopting this child, then I’ll set about getting you the proper documents and recommendations.”

Hanta lets out a relieved sigh, glad to finally be taken seriously. It had taken a week of persistence to even get the woman to agree to a meeting with him. 

“In the meantime I would suggest thinking of a name. I’m assuming you would assign her your own surname, yes?”

Hanta doesn’t love the way she addresses the child, as if she’s a number in a long list of numbers. “I would, yes. She’s going to be my child.”

She raises one eyebrow. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Think of a first name and we’ll start there.”

“Keiko.”

Hanta doesn’t have to think about it, mostly because the work has been done for him. Once her story had come out, the public had quickly taken to calling her “blessed” and “lucky”. Both for the circle of protection cast upon her by her late parent and her rescue from a burning building completely unharmed. 

Shortly after, the public had taken to giving her the nickname ‘Keiko’, written either with the kanji for ‘blessed child’ or ‘lucky child’. Hanta isn’t quite sure if they’ve decided which one is more fitting. He supposes that the job falls to him now, hopefully. 

The grey woman stares at him blankly before gathering her papers and standing. “I’ll see you Wednesday, Sero-san. Don’t be late.”

Yikes. Who pissed in her bento box. 

You’d think it was Hanta, with the way she walks away so stiffly.  

…

Hanta skids into Tokyo Heroes agency out of breath, nearly slamming into the counter of the lobby, startling the pink-haired boy at the desk. 

“Hey! Is Uraraka in yet?”

The boy blinks at him before turning to his computer, typing something in. “Uh, it looks like she clocked in a few minutes ago, but she has a patrol in twenty-”

Hanta blurts out a thank you quickly, waving as he heads up the stairs, calling out an apology as the boy stutters out the last word of his sentence. 

He books it to the second floor and just barely catches Uraraka as she’s heading out of her office and towards the elevator, no doubt headed to the locker rooms to change. 

“Uraraka!”

She turns with wide eyes, a confused smile taking over when she sees him. “Sero-kun! Should you be out and about this soon after leaving the hospital?”

She eyes the way he clutches his side and frowns. “Ah, it’s fine! I wanted to catch you before your shift started.”

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. She gestures for him to get in and follows him after. 

“What’s up?”

She presses the ground floor button and Hanta sags against the metal wall, gripping the railing as his ribs repay him for his ill-advised sprint. 

“I need help. Desperately.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Clearly.”

He chuckles, “Not like that! I need fashion advice.”

Uraraka wrinkles her nose. “Your fashion sense is really good, though?”

He scratches his cheek as his face heats up. “Shucks, Uraraka, you’re making me blush. But I don’t mean normal fashion, I mean the impress-an-unimpressible grey-suited lady who holds the key to adopting the child you’ve inexplicably grown attached to in a twenty-four hour period fashion advice.”

Uraraka scans his face for a moment. “So you’re really serious about her? You’re ready to be a dad?”

Hanta sucks in a breath and lets it woosh out. “Well, I wouldn’t say ready, but I’m more sure of this than anything. Ever. I can’t explain it, Uraraka. She needs me and…I think I need her, too.”

Uraraka’s face softens, almost melting at the sweetness coming from her usually joking friend. “Alright. But I’m calling in reinforcements. Can you swing by at eight?”

Hanta beams at her. “You’re the best.”

The elevator shudders to a stop and she pulls him into a soft hug before stepping out. “Don’t worry, babe, we’ll shape you into the absolutely best upstanding father figure a grey-suited lady could ever hope for!”

…

Hanta doesn’t often regret things, he doesn’t take life seriously enough for that, but sitting on Uraraka’s plush couch in the middle of her living room, surrounded by their old classmates is definitely edging him towards regret. 

Uraraka had invited him to girls night! That was what she called reinforcements. 

Girls night consists of every class A girl and a few from class B. Plus Aoyama. Hanta’s not entirely sure why he’s the only guy allowed into the girls only-exclusive club, because Bakugo is so gay it hurts to watch and Hanta knows for a fact a few of their former classmates identify as nonbinary or somewhere off the gender spectrum (though Jirou is here, so there’s that).

It’s probably just Aoyama’s weirdly captivating charm. 

“ Bonsoir, mon chéri .” Aoyama floats over to him, sinking onto the couch with all the grace of a swan. It makes Hanta feel even more out of place. 

“Sup?”

Aoyama rolls his eyes and holds out an elaborate charcuterie board layered with cheeses and meats, stuffed between with small leaves of greenery, olives, or nuts. 

“Cheese?”

“Uh, thanks.” Hanta picks a cheese near the edge and takes a small bite. 

Aoyama seems satisfied enough, setting the wooden board on the coffee table and folding his legs beneath himself as he turns towards Hanta. “What you did was trés courageux .”

Hanta realises that, alright, they’re talking about this now. “I just did what any hero would do.”

Aoyama picks up a cube of cheese for himself, delicately speared on a toothpick. “Hm, non . Deku, sure, but not most heroes. Should I be concerned you’ve learned our friends' self-sacrificing tendencies?”

Hanta snorts, popping the rest of the cheese in his mouth so he can chew while he stares at his hands. He shrugs, swallowing. 

“It wasn’t meant to be self-sacrificial. I heard her cry and it was just instinct. I pushed through that fire before I could think, and when I didn’t find her at first…I thought I was going to die.” His fingers curl into fists and his brows lower. “I had accepted that, actually. I was okay with dying, as morbid as that is. And then she cried again and I looked into her eyes and I suddenly had a reason to fight, to not just lay there and let the fire eat at me. She-”

Hanta looks up desperately at Aoyama, at a loss for words, and blushes at the intense focus of his friends. He hadn’t realised when they grew quiet and started listening. 

“Ah.” He clears his throat in the deafening silence and Uraraka chooses that moment to step back into the living room. 

“I have shots!” She lowers her tray slightly, smile dimming. “What’d I miss? Did you start without me?”

Hanta sticks his tongue out at her when she playfully glares at him. 

“I did nothing.”

Aoyama leans around him. “He was just baring his soul in the most gentle nature I’ve ever seen from a cis man.”

Hanta looks at him in confusion. “You’re a cis man?”

Aoyama pats the back of his hand. “Yes, but I’m a gay cis man. That means I keep all my honest feelings locked up inside and only show people what I want them to see.”

Hanta nods slowly. “Huh. Like Bakugo.”

Aoyama looks offended. “ Euh , don’t be impolite.”

Mina cuts in, “He’s right, Sero. Low blow.”

Several of the girls chime in with an agreement and Hanta groans. “Forgive me for not knowing! Uraraka, please bring those over here.”

She does with a small huff, handing him two before setting the rest down to let their friends grab as well. 

He immediately knocks one back and reaches for another. Once he has two down and the third in his hand, he sinks back into the couch. 

“Okay so I may be fucked.”

Jirou sips at their water, “Not the first time.”

Hanta raises his remaining shot glass to them and knocks it back. “Hear, hear!”

Momo smiles at Jirou sweetly before she leans forward. “What do you need our help with, dear?”

Bless Momo, she’s a saint.

Hanta scratches at his cheek and smiles in what he hopes is a charming manner. “I may or may not be trying to adopt a recently orphaned child I rescued from a burning building and I may or may not be the last candidate on Grey Suit’s list.”

Momo blinks, dark eyes wide in confusion. “Grey Suit?”

Hanta looks to Uraraka and laughs. “Uh, yeah. It’s a…fond nickname for the agent assigned to Keiko’s case.”

Several gasps and squeals sound from his audience (the most notable is Aoyama, who makes a noise like he’s choking on one of his cheese cubes) that make his instincts tense up in response. He settles easily when he realises that most of his friends are making noises of happiness paired with a bit of surprise. 

Kendo simply looks pleased, but Mina is jumping in place, hugging Tsuyu and almost-crying. Hanta is inescapably endeared. 

Momo has a hand pressed to her mouth, eyes shining at him like he’s said he’s cured world hunger, and Jirou looks appropriately calm, giving their girlfriend a small smile in response. 

He hadn’t expected such fanfare from…actually, he has no idea what it’s from. The nickname response? Was it because he said fond? Surely they didn’t they he had the hots for Grey Suit? Heavens, Hanta was bi, not desperate. 

“I’m confused.”

Uraraka swoops in like a saving ange for the second time, because the shots were definitely heaven-sent. 

“You called her Keiko. You’ve named her, you’re attached, it’s practically a done deal. Which means we have to get him in tip top shape, ladies and theys!”

Several of them start speaking at once, a giant mess of conversation that they somehow seem to be keeping track of? He tries to tune into Mina’s advice on presentation and gets sucked into Aoyama’s boisterous claims that his attire couldn’t get him into a b-rank soccer game (whatever that means). Kendo is offering up her opinion on hero ranking and media backlash while Tsuyu quietly agrees and mentions the potential issues of home/hero life crossover. 

They’re bringing up more things than Hanta had ever thought of. He’d only thought of ‘what’s the best way to adopt Keiko and give her the life she deserves?’ And now, listening to every concern and potential drawbacks he can’t help but still think of that single goal. Nothing matters past Keiko, if he’s being honest. The rest will fall into place, he’s sure of it. 

He clears his throat and when the group doesn’t let up, he calls out a hesitant ‘ahem’.

They don’t hear him, but thankfully Jirou makes eye contact with him, having sat out from the group discussion turned Hanta-rag-fest and smirks. Hanta has enough time to watch them unwind an earlobe slowly to cover his ears. 

“HEY!”

The entire group quiets with startled noises, turning to Jirou in surprise. 

They shrug, “Hanta was trying to speak.”

Hanta grins at them before turning to the rest of the group sheepishly. “Sorry. Listen, I love that you’re all worried about me, about this, and I love that you want to help so much, but I’m really only interested in adopting Keiko. I don’t have plans to change who I am, and I don’t really care what anyone thinks. The public will say what they want regardless and I’ll be judged as a hero and a person and a…parent. I know that. No amount of prep is going to change it. Unless you can magically turn me into Midoriya.” He chuckles and the rest of them laugh along. 

Uraraka bumps his shoulder. “I love Deku-kun, but I know you’re the only man for the job. Keiko doesn’t need anyone but you and we’re going to help you get her.”

Uraraka pumps her fist in the air and several of the girls cheer. Hanta finds his chest seizing with warmth, realising for the first time in a while that he’s made himself a small family over the years, if he’d only looked. 

“Thanks, guys.”

…

Grey Suit sits in front of him, a neat stack of papers perfectly centered before her and a pen perfectly sat beside them. 

“Don’t look frightened. Those agents are like sharks, they smell blood in the water.”

“Wouldn’t they be more like lions? Smelling fear?”

“Shut up, Sero.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She’s got the aloof look down pat; Hanta is one-hundred percent convinced she doesn’t care about him or his feelings.

“Good afternoon, Sero-san.”

Hanta inclines his head. “Hello, Itō-san.”

Her name feels odd in his mouth. 

She blinks and picks up her papers, tapping them against the table as if they aren’t already perfect. “Your emotions are much more in order this meeting.”

Hanta is keenly aware of her quirk, after Uraraka’s potentially-illegal research. 

“All for the good of humanity, Hanta! ”

He’s not sure what humanity she’s referring to, in all honesty. 

He nods to Itō. “I’m sure of myself and my decision.”

She hums, noncommittal. “I’ve looked over your application.”

Hanta clears his throat. “Yes. And?”

She sets her papers down, folding her hands to level him with a blank grey-eyed stare. “I’ll be honest with you, Sero-san, I don’t think you’re a good fit for this child. Heroes are notoriously bad parents, and even if they take good care of their family, the target over their heads…” She shakes her head, almost mimicking sadness. “Is that what you want for the girl?”

Hanta frown, staring out the window. “I get it. I know the stats you’re talking about. I know the casualties. I’m not naive enough to think being low-ranking would save her from the villains of this world, but if you think I would care for her or love her any less because of my job,” He shakes his head sharply. “It wouldn’t happen.”

I’d like to sit here and tell you that I’ll be a perfect parent, that I have all the resources and I know all the facts and figures for the life ahead of her, but I don’t.” He turns back to her. “I could say duty binds me to looking after her, or morality, obligation, social expectation, but it’s not that simple. Or maybe it’s more simple that even that. It sounds silly, Itō-san, possibly even ridiculous, but I feel bound to her by fate. I can’t explain it, because you weren’t there, but I looked at Death, accepted it even, and Death stared back in the eyes of a child, begging for another shot at life.”

Hanta quiets suddenly, sucked back into reality sharply, with the realisation that he’s not still on the floor of a third-floor apartment, surrounded by fire and locking eyes with a tiny girl. 

Itō is looking at him oddly, mouth pressed into a firm line and eyes shining. Hanta is surprised at the emotion insinuated behind the grey of her irises. 

“I’m sorry, I might have spoken out of turn.”

Itō sighs lightly and looks to her papers. “I hope you have a good pen, Sero-san.”

Hanta jolts, daring to lean forward on his inhale. “Do you mean?”

She sighs louder then, a rough exhale from her nose. “Do keep up, Sero-san.”

Hanta cheers in his mind and can’t keep the wide smile off his face. 

He’ll sign a million papers for Keiko, if that’s what it takes. 

…

When the times comes where Hanta is finally able to pick up Keiko (now Sero Keiko-with the kanji for blessed, because luck has nothing to do with it) from the adoption agency (after two long weeks of paperwork and legal documents and online courses) it’s much more underwhelming than he had anticipated. 

Keiko looks at him with her round eyes, full of calm and a sense of knowing, and reaches a pudgy hand out to hold his finger. Sure, it melts his heart into a gooey puddle on the ground, but the heavens don’t open up and there’s no music. 

He’s grateful. Fanfare is never a good sign. 

“Hey kiddo. Took me long enough, huh?”

Keiko blinks and squeezes his finger. Hanta takes that as agreement. 

“Hey, I get it, trust me. But you have no idea how much paperwork you require.” Keiko yawns. “Exactly. I didn’t even get a gold star.”

Someone clears their throat and Hanta whirls around. 

“It was a pleasure working with you, Sero-san.”

Hanta stares at Itō as if the woman has grown a second head. “It was?” A small hand flies up to smack his cheek and Hanta gaps at Keiko for a moment before he shrugs. “Alright, fair. Thank you, Itō-san. You’ve made a very happy family today.”

Hanta smooshes his cheek against Keiko’s and waves her hand at the agent, who’s grey eyes seem slightly more animated than usual. 

Bingo. Baby charm. 

“Don’t make me regret my decision, Sero-san. Have a nice life.” 

She walks off with her ominous departing statement, heels clicking against the marble floor. 

Hanta looks at the baby in his arms- his baby- and grins. “Can you believe I worked with her for two weeks for you? Two weeks!”

A soft hand smacks his cheek again. 

“Alright, we’ve gotta talk about this whole pavlovian conditioning thing, Keiko.”

…

Hanta is a week into his new father-hood, stocked high with so many baby supplies he could survive a war on baby food rations, when he realises that the material isn’t the only thing he needs for Keiko. 

He’s been given a month off duty to settle into parenthood, but the looming question is: what about after? 

He can’t leave Keiko at home, for obvious reasons, and for even more obvious reasons she can’t come to work with him. (He’s not saying he doubts his skills as a hero, but there’s no reason to tempt fate a second time.)

All of his closest friends, who he’d trust with Keiko, happen to be heroes too. 

Thus, his predicament. 

He’s mixing up a bottle of formula as he phones Bakugo (Yes, odd choice, but his boyfriend is on duty and Deku would be the best option for this type of question), listening to the phone ring as he sets the mixed bottle in the bottle warmer. 

Bakugo picks up on the fifth ring, barking a greeting. “What do you want, Tape Face?”

“Bakugo! My man! Sadly for both of us, I need your help.”

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard what I was gonna ask!”

“Still no.”

“Midoriya would say yes.”

Hanta listens for one beat- two, before Bakugo replies. 

“The fuck is it?”

God, still so easy even after all these years. “Nice. So I would have gone to him first, but he’s busy and you’re my second option. I need a place to send Keiko to once my month of pregnancy leave is up.”

Bakugo scoffs, “You weren’t pregnant, dumbass.”

Hanta fakes a gasp and presses a hand to Keiko’s ear, where she’s strapped to his chest in a harness. “Sh! She’s right here! Don’t let her know my biology isn’t suited for that.”

“God you’re so stupid. Why would I know any places?”

“Because I know for a fact you helped Midoriya find a school for Eri way back when and he’s helped numerous kids in the past half-decade, and you pay attention to everything he does like a creepy tsundre.”

“Fuck off. Do you want names or not?”

Hanta grins, checking the clock and pulling the now-warm bottle out of the warmer. “Yes, please.”

“Fucking stupid. Check your email or I’ll kill you!”

“Thanks babe, you’re the best!” Hanta blows a kiss into the speaker before Bakugo can explode his phone, then hangs up. 

“See that Keiko? Verbal manipulation works wonders, much better than slapping people around. 

Keiko looks at him, then her bottle, reaching a hand out. 

“What do we say?”

She smacks his cheek a few times and babbles an ‘ah! nh!’ that has him grinning despite himself. 

“Please works, too.” He takes her small hand and rubs it up and down on her chest for the sign, repeating the word before he grabs the bottle. The sooner he can teach her non-verbal communication for basic needs, the better. For his face, at least. 

“Alright, kiddo, let’s check our email, yeah?”

Keiko holds onto her bottle and drinks it delicately (like a princess-so cute). Hanta had been surprised to find she could hold it on her own, she’s only a bit over half a year old, but according to Mina and the basic knowledge of his child-development courses, it’s perfectly normal, if a bit earlier than average. 

He plops down on the couch that jostles them both and grins at the way Keiko’s eyebrow scrunch together. “What, no bouncy rides for you?”

Keiko, understandably doesn’t respond, so he boots up his laptop and sets about opening up his email. There’s a brand new email waiting for him and Hanta clicks on it with a hum. 

Bakugo has attached a list of recommendations, ranging from daycares to preschools and even a few live-in and for-hire nannies. Hanta wrinkles his nose at the idea of someone else in his house. He’s not exactly keen on having to put his boxers in the laundry basket, regardless if that’s where they’re supposed to go, thank you very much. 

“You want some random person in our house, Keiko?”

Keiko pulls the bottle from her mouth with a small pop and looks at him. Her face is completely blank, but Hanta will take what he can get. 

“Yeah, me neither.”

He scrolls past the nannies to the more long-term suggestions. A daycare is fine for now, with Keiko being so young, but Hanta definitely wants her education to be top priority in the future. But he also wants kindness and care to be a top priority, so he’s not sure which one prioritises both, if at all. 

Hanta sticks his bottom lip out and presses his cheek to Keiko’s head. “Keiko, this is so hard! I’d much rather be able to take care of you myself. How can I trust anyone else with you?”

A hand rests against his cheek, soft and gentler than her normal antics. Hanta’s heart softens further and he nuzzles into the touch, turning his face to kiss her palm. 

“That is not helping the situation, baby. Now I just wanna keep you locked away forever!”

Keiko makes a noise like an annoyed coo, pulling her bottle between their faces. 

Hanta pulls away with a laugh. “Geez, already dealing with the teenage moodiness!”

He sucks in a breath, suddenly very aware that he will have to deal with the teenage years at some point. He looks down at the tiny angel at his chest and his thoughts halt. Shit. This is really his life now. 

A smile creeps onto his mouth without warning. 

“I’m going to be the dad with tattoos and a penchant for random singing and you’ll think I’m so embarrassing for at least five years of your life. Sorry in advance.”

He beams at Keiko as she finishes her bottle, pulling up each preschool in a separate browser to research later when he’s put her down for her nap. 

“What are your requirements? Outdoor swings? Purple walls? A distinct lack of any oranges?”

She knocks them out of his hand every single time he tries to eat one, so he’s counting it as a personal vendetta he hasn’t parsed out yet. 

“I think I can swing the first two, but the last one might be difficult.”

Keiko yawns with a small sigh and it’s then that Hanta notices her empty bottle. He takes it gently, brushing the fine wisp of white hair from her forehead. 

“Sleepy?” He looks at his phone. “It’s early, but if you’re tired, I’m not going to complain. Daddy’s got some homework to do anyways.”

Hanta rises from the couch slowly (he’s learned his lesson with being unbalanced by a small child) and heads towards his old office, now Keiko’s nursery. 

Mina, Denki, Jirou, Midoriya and even Bakugo had helped him set the room up, which was a giant help for someone just floundering with a new baby and the internal decorating skills of a broke college frat boy. 

Mina and Jirou had helped with the overall aesthetic, something soothing, nuetral, and vaguely celestial themed. The walls ended up a grey-lavender, the ceiling dotted with small points of glow-in-the-dark paint. There’s a giant soft rug in the center of the room, a light grey thing Mina had told him was great with clean-up. There’s a slightly darker grey mat in the far left corner for tummy time, cornered by two shelves stocked to near overflowing with toys of every variety. 

The toys had been Denki’s department, and Hanta had been pleasantly surprised to find his friend didn’t just pick cute things (though most of them are by default), but tons of enriching, explorative toys that would help Keiko with various fine motor skills and understanding the world around her as she developed. 

Bakugo had helped with the wardrobe, as was mildly expected, even if he always complained about having to be the ‘fashion expert’ of their group. His tune had quickly changed when he realised Hanta would be content dressing her in anything that fit. His logic is that she’s going to grow out of them in a month or two anyways, what’s the point. She’ll look cute in literally everything. 

Alas, Bakugo had snarled and snapped and bitched, but bought Keiko a full year’s wardrobe of stylish, adorable clothes he’s sure costed more than they’re worth. His smug grin kept Hanta from complaining, especially when he dressed her in one of the outfits and Bakugo’s eyes got so misty he had to feign ‘allergies’ he’s never had before. 

Midoriya had been his ultimate lifesaver, and probably would continue to be so. He had helped Hanta plan a budget for the nursery and the following months of diapers, formula, and various baby-stuff Hanta had no idea he would need so regularly. 

The nursery is now properly set up with the right crib, a changing table with a neat curve that apparently makes things easier, appropriate height shelves for baby friendly or non-friendly items, a good noise machine, and the best baby monitor on the market, complete with a bluetooth app and accessibility from any continent (a necessity with his profession as he rises in the ranks steadily each year).

Midoriya had also helped him find all the online courses Hanta had taken to learn about childhood development, child psychology, and the various habits and behaviours to expect as a child grows up, and the best ways to handle them in a nurturing, positive manner. 

Hanta needs to take his friends out for a nice dinner, once he’s settled into a routine, to thank them for all the work they’ve put into helping him and Keiko. 

For now, he lays Keiko in her crib, slipping her into a sleep sack and popping a pacifier in her mouth before he turns on her noise machine. She likes the storm sounds the best. 

He turns off the lights and grins softly at the stars that light up with a soft glow. He settles into the rocking chair beside her crib with his laptop, glancing over as she yawns around her pacifier and shuts her eyes. 

Everyone says it’s a miracle she sleeps so nicely, and Hanta has to thank whoever raised Keiko up until this point. They really did create an angel of a child, slapping aside. Hanta could use a good slap here and there, anyways. 

Once he’s sure she’s asleep, he opens the tabs from earlier to do some reasearch on the establishments Bakugo had sent him. The first two are fine enough, colourful and exceptionally cheerful, but Hanta can’t find any personal touches on the website, and that puts him off quite a bit. Sue him, he’s a first-time parent, he wants to know the people and the place he’s sending his baby off to. 

The third option is better, a small daycare thirty minutes away that has a website chock full of bright, bubbly pictures of the staff and kids. The owners, an older couple with greying hair and abundant wrinkles, look kind. Hanta marks it as a definite place to check out, if nothing else. 

The fourth preschool looks like the type of place that would have made him cry from boredom as a kid. Very studious and schedule oriented. Though, Keiko is probably nothing like him and would do good with a nice schedule and good schooling, Hanta marks it off out of pettiness. 

There are three links left, one daycare, and two preschools, but Hanta really doesn’t find himself needing to look further past the fifth preschool, absolutely enamoured with the school: Happy Days Preschool and Kindergarten. There are so many tabs and links he’s overwhelmed at first. The website covers each building, class, and staff member, full of colourful pictures and drawings that are tasteful while being genuine. 

They have much of the usual reassurance, that Happy Days is catered to teaching a new generation with both love and learning, but what really catches his eye is how they seem well versed with taking care of kids belonging to heroes. The safety measures listed are almost on par with U.A., post-war, including safety plans for villain attacks, hostage situations, robberies, and even minor bombing. 

Hanta feels safe considering the school, but just to be sure, he sends the list of faculty members to his assistant before he plans to schedule a visit, asking her to run a background check on each of them, and then any immediate family members. 

She sends an email back within minutes agreeing, but Hanta can just hear the way she’s laughing at him. 

Sure, laugh now, but when someone’s murderous father pops up, she’ll understand. 

Besides, the teacher with the dual-tone hair sets off a ping in his mind, a warning of some sort, and he can’t tell what he should be looking out for. Sure, he’s wildly pretty, but so was Chisaki Kai, and he kidnapped and tortured a child, so he’s not fooled by those pretty eyes and high cheekbones. 

Enamoured, sure. 

But not fooled!