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The mid-afternoon hustle and bustle of Musutafu has Kudo clenching his teeth. The pounding in his head is only manageable because of his own experience with loud, busy, and overcrowded spaces.
Three years ago, after being exposed to an unknown meta-ability (likely All for One’s doing, and likely as some sort of revenge plot for Yoichi’s death), Kudo found himself over a hundred years in the future. It had been surprisingly easy to make a life for himself, at least easier than it was back in his own time.
He misses his comrades, Bruce especially, but he’s not made to feel like a freak for simply existing.
He’s long since passed on Yoichi’s will. The thought of losing it to All for One made him pass it on relatively quickly to Bruce. Even now, he misses the warmth of the ability. The constant and consistent presence of his-
A small body bumps into him. He stumbles back out of surprise.
From the ground, a child shouts, “ow! Sorry!”
Kudo kneels down next to them. He’s always had a soft spot for children, and this one can’t be that old. Looking around at the other people who seem unconcerned with the situation, he wonders if any of them are the child’s parents. He can’t imagine any rational adult would allow a young child to wander by themselves.
“Are you okay?” He asks.
“Yeah,” the boy answers, holding his nose. Small droplets of blood leak through his tiny fingers. “‘M really sorry.” He looks up at Kudo.
All the air is knocked from Kudo’s lungs. If not for the people behind him, he might have fallen backwards. Because, looking up at him, are Yoichi’s eyes.
The same lime green that almost looks emerald in the light.
The same white pupils.
Right here.
Staring up at him with wide eyes.
Yoichi.
He glances at the traffic light for the crosswalk. It counts down.
Ten.
Kudo looks back at the little boy.
Nine.
He shouldn’t do this. It’s wrong. The boy likely has parents waiting for him.
Eight.
His parents might be around. They might even be in this crowd. It wouldn’t be the first time a child was neglected or ignored.
Seven.
But if that’s the case, then he would really be doing the boy a favor.
Six.
He can’t risk the boy running away, but children this age are usually easily lured away. Kudo hates that he knows that. But his time hadn’t been kind to children being children.
Five.
He offers the boy his hand.
Four.
“I’ll help your nose stop bleeding.”
Three.
The boy’s eyebrows furrow, and he glances at the traffic light. “Can I have a candy after?”
Two.
Kudo thinks about the candy drawer in his apartment. He’s always had a sweet tooth, and being able to indulge in that, just a little, is another thing he loves about not having to ration supplies. He nods, smiling. “Of course.”
One.
The boy smiles back. He’s missing his two front teeth. It’s cute and endearing and makes Kudo even more steadfast in his decision.
“Okay, but daddy’s coming home today. So, I have to be home before dinner.”
Kudo’s heart clenches painfully. Deep down, he knows, this isn’t right. But he can’t bring himself to part with the boy so soon. “Sure thing. I’ll have you back before then.”
The boy takes his hand. Kudo - who had been on a mission to return a library book - decides to double back to his apartment.
“What’s your name?” He asks, still holding the boy’s hand. The boy’s other hand still covers his bleeding nose, causing his voice to sound nasally.
“Izuku,” he chirps brightly. He bounces on his heels whenever they pause for too long - so full of energy that Kudo can feel it vibrating off him like electricity. It reminds him of Yoichi after he started to get comfortable. Always smiling and excitable, ready to learn about the world his brother kept him from.
“Izuku,” he mutters, testing the name. “Izuku, that’s a nice name.”
Izuku’s eyes sparkle. “Really?” He gasps. “You think so? Kacchan said it was a stupid name, but mom said she named me after my daddy.”
Kudo listens with half-an-ear. Children want to be listened to, but something tells him that Izuku isn’t expecting a response. Especially when the boy goes on to change the topic entirely, and then again….and again……and again…..
By the time he opens his apartment door, Kudo knows more about All Might and this random “Kacchan” kid than he ever needed to. It amazes him that anyone can talk so much when their nose is spurting blood (less so now, but the point stands).
“That’s so cool!” He says, jumping in before Izuku can go on another ramble. Gently, he scoops the kid up and deposits him on the counter. “Stay here.” Kudo goes to his medicine cabinet, pulling out some tissues. He washes his hands.
When he turns back, the kid smiles at him.
“Take your hand off,” he advises. With all the care he can muster, he cleans the blood off Izuku’s face. “It doesn’t look bad. It’s probably because of the dry air.”
Voice muffled due to Kudo stuffing a small wad of tissue up Izuku’s nose, the boy mutters a surprised, “dye air?”
“Mhm,” he hums. “Done,” he announces, throwing the dirty tissues away. He opens his candy drawer. “Lemon, cherry, or green apple?”
Izuku purses his lips. One of his fingers sits on his chin, and he tilts his head to the side. “Mhmmm….apple!” He accepts the candy from Kudo’s hand. The sparkle in his eyes hasn’t diminished since Kudo complimented his name. “Thank you!”
“No problem, kid,” he murmurs. He turns away.
He hasn’t even done anything, so why does he feel so guilty? He’s killed people, for god’s sake. Maybe it has to do with being reminded of Yoichi. They had so many plans before All for One brutally and cruelly took him from Kudo.
Plans that involved starting a family.
Getting married.
Settling down.
Adopting a child or two…..
“”Kay! All done! Time to go home!”
His head hurts, but his heart hurts worse.
Maybe he can’t bring back his boyfriend, and maybe their plans of growing old together would never come to fruition. But maybe their plan of having a family can still be realized.
Maybe this is the universe’s way of making things right. Returning what was lost to him. Fixing plans that were derailed and giving Kudo the family he so badly wanted with Yoichi.
“Before…” he swallows down the bile threatening to come up. “Before you leave….I have something to show you.”
“Okay!” Izuku reaches his arms up, trusting Kudo to pick him up. There’s not a single hint of suspicion evident in the little boy’s expression. It makes him feel sick.
It doesn’t stop him from taking Izuku to the spare room. There’s no furniture of any kind (he’s had no reason to use the room before.) and the walls are bright white. “Stay here,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”
Kudo runs to the storage cupboard. He pulls out several blankets, sheets, and grabs a pillow or two from the couch on his way back.
Izuku is still where he left him in the middle of the room. He smiles when Kudo returns. “What do you want to show me?” He bounces on his tiptoes.
Kudo smiles back at him, but it feels fake. “Patience,” he chides. “First we have to set everything up.”
Izuku nods, a serious expression crossing his face. “Okay!” He helps Kudo lay out the sheets, layering them to provide extra padding until he can get a futon or mattress (not that Izuku knows that).
They do the same thing with the blankets. The last one is left half-folded, ready to tuck somebody in. And then, Kudo carefully arranges the pillows.
“Izuku,” he starts, watching the boy from his peripheral vision. “How old are you?” There would be news alerts. It would help if he had more information to work with, especially because he doubts the boy will be all that helpful after Kudo breaks his trust.
“Three!”
Kudo pats the bedding. “That old? Wow!”
“Momma let me go to the park all by myself.”
“Does…does she do that often?”
Izuku tilts his head from side to side, considering his words. “Mmm….no. Momma’s sick right now. That’s why daddy’s coming home.”
He fidgets with the edge of the blanket. His stomach roils and the blood rushing through his ears is so, so loud. But Kudo is nothing if not certain in each and every one of his decisions.
It’s what made him a good leader. Leading and keeping a large majority of the rebellion alive.
It’s what drove him to take Yoichi’s hand.
And it’s what sealed Izuku’s fate.
“Is your dad away a lot?” Kudo can remember his own parents. Both of them were dead by the time he reached twelve, but there was a time when they had something close to normalcy. His dad worked long, hard hours a few cities away. He only came home a few days every few months.
“Yeah, but it’s okay. Momma says it’s because he’s working really hard.”
Kudo pats the boy’s head. “What does he do?”
More head tilting. More humming. “I dunno. I asked momma once, but she didn’t know either.”
That’s a sure sign that his father’s either doing something illegal, immoral, or a mix of the two. But that’s not his concern right now. Izuku is in his care now, so anything his parents do now is none of his concern.
As long as Izuku’s parents aren’t politicians or extremely wealthy, they shouldn’t pose a problem for him.
“Ah, I see.” He stands up. “I’m going to show you something really cool now, okay? Close your eyes.”
Kudo waits for Izuku to cover his eyes, before he leaves the room.
“Can I open my eyes yet?” Izuku calls.
“Not yet. One more minute.” He grabs a chair from the kitchen. As quietly as he can, he wedges it under the handle. He tests the door handle. It doesn’t budge. “I’m sorry,” he says.
The tone of his voice must startle Izuku, because not a second later the door handle rattles. All the previous warmth and excitement is gone from Izuku’s voice. “What….what’s happening? Mister? The door won’t open?” He sniffles, close to tears. “Open the door? Pretty please?” The door handle continues to rattle, but the door still doesn’t open.
“It will be okay. I promise.”
Izuku cries, banging his fists against the door. “Let me out! I don’t wanna be here!” He sounds terrified. “I want to go home!”
“You are home,” Kudo says. He holds the door handle, just in case Izuku manages to un-wedge the chair. “I’m going to take care of you now.”
He feels like a monster the way Izuku screams out, “no!”
He can’t be that awful. The boy’s parents are infinitely worse, Kudo reasons to himself. They left a small child all alone. If they actually cared about Izuku, they would have been there.
“Rest, Izuku. You’re tired. We can talk more once you get some sleep and calm down.”
His neighbors, thankfully, keep to themselves. As long as Izuku calms down within the next couple hours, the noise shouldn’t be a problem.
Izuku doesn’t take this well. He hits the door harder, wailing all the while. “Mommy! Daddy! No! No! I don’t like you!”
Kudo sighs. “It’s okay, Izuku. Please, rest.”
Eventually, the door handle stops rattling, and Izuku’s cries grow weaker. He still doesn’t enter. Children are smarter than most give them credit for. Izuku is small and Kudo has no doubt he could catch the boy if he had to, but he doesn’t want to frighten Izuku more than he has to. And he especially doesn’t want the boy to escape.
So, he sits down and watches the door. His knees are drawn to his chest.
The walls are thin in the apartment, so Kudo can hear every little hiccup and cry coming from the room. His chest tightens. He’s never been a touchy-feely person, but the sounds make him want to throw caution to the wind and open the door. Scoop the boy up and hold him until he stops crying and falls asleep.
But he resists, and the noises stop. He waits a little longer, before removing the chair and opening the door.
Izuku lays passed out in front of the door. He’s curled up, arms clutched to his chest.
Kudo clicks his tongue sympathetically. “Oh,” he murmurs. “Let’s get you to bed.”
He picks Izuku up, cradling the boy like a baby. Izuku whines in his sleep, grabbing Kudo’s shirt.
“Shh….” he hushes him. For a second, he basks in the weight and warmth in his arms. He imagines the circumstances being better. Yoichi being alive. Izuku being theirs without the word “kidnapping” hanging over his head.
But Yoichi isn’t alive, and Izuku won’t be able to leave the apartment without being disguised.
He lays Izuku on the makeshift bed. “Sweet dreams,” he whispers into the boy’s curls. He has to give credit where credit is due. The boy’s parents have taken extremely great care of his hair. It’s soft and smells like watermelon. He finds himself playing with the curls, running his fingers through the hair.
“It will be okay,” he repeats his earlier sentiment. “I promise.”
-x-x-x-
Half-way across the city, Hisashi Midoriya returns home.
It’s not often that his wife gets sick, and even less often that she can’t care for their son. He doesn’t mind, though. It had been such a long time since he had an excuse to come home. The doctor’s company was appreciated through those bitter years where he was all alone, but now, he wishes he could indulge in “family time” (as the doctor calls it) much more often.
Izuku is already three, after all.
His son is full of energy. Healthier than Yoichi had been, but somehow much clingier. It’s a strange feeling, being loved so openly and insistently.
Which is why he’s confused that his son doesn’t lunge for him when he steps through the door. It’s still midday. He purposefully came home early so he could cook dinner.
“Izuku!” He calls, but his son doesn’t come to him. It’s a little late for a nap, but maybe his son decided to curl up with his mother. It’s not unheard of. Izuku loves cuddling up with his parents. And he’s such a sweet boy, so he could foresee him falling asleep while keeping his mother company.
He slips his shoes off, and ventures further into the apartment. The familiar sight of his son's red shoes is missing, but perhaps he forgot to take them off again.
Hisashi heads for their bedroom at the end of the hall. He stops to peek in his son’s room. They just recently moved away from co-sleeping, or more accurately, Inko did. He’s not home enough to have any say in that particular matter (as his wife pointed out during an argument over the phone. He still doesn’t like the idea of Izuku sleeping away from them. He’s already growing up so fast. Is it so wrong that he wants to hold on to his son awhile longer?)
Just as he expected, the bed is empty.
He opens the door to their bedroom. The soft sound of his wife’s breathing fills the quiet. His eyes rove over the bed, looking for the telltale lump of a small body or shock of turquoise-green curls.
But he isn’t there. Hisashi’s eyebrows furrow.
“Izuku?” He quietly calls out.
Nothing.
A wave of fear crashes over him. He doesn’t want to wake Inko, but if their son is missing, he needs to do something now.
He shakes her shoulder. “Hey,” he says. “Hey.”
Inko’s eyes blink open. “Wha-”
“Izuku, where is he?”
“The park.” She rolls over to look at the alarm clock on Hisashi’s nightstand. “He’s supposed to be home by now.” Her eyes are slightly glazed over and her voice is scratchy. “Is he not home yet?”
Hisashi shakes his head. That’s all he needs to know. “I’ll go get him.” He pats his wife’s head. “Get some rest.”
She collapses, fast asleep.
All for One hurries from the apartment. If his son is missing, he doesn’t have a lot of time. He has a lot of enemies, and a lot of them don’t have “not hurting a child” in their moral code.
He can only imagine how scared his baby is. Izuku isn’t used to being away from his parents, and he’s such a sensitive soul (just like Yoichi was).
He silently begs whatever higher power that sees fit enough to grant him a wish that his son is safe.