Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Misaki Midoriya! Get your ass down here, your social workers come to get you out of my damn house!” Their foster mother yelled from downstairs. “Hurry up! I don’t want you here any longer!”

Nose scrunching, and mood plummeting, Izuku grabbed their still packed backpack and walked downstairs, getting their hair yanked by their foster mother, who muttered beneath her breath about them being a quirkless freak who never had any place under her roof, not even for the paycheck she got for housing them. They were dragged to the doorway by their hair, shoved down to the floor beside their beat-up red shoes, and at their mean, old social workers' feet, their glasses knocked askew.

Nimbly slipping on their shoes and tying the worn laces, Izuku stood up, adjusted their glasses, and allowed themself to be dragged by the wrist out of the house by their social worker to the sound of their former foster mother cursing them out.

“You’re lucky you’re not going to another group home this time, you fucking null,” His social worker grumbled, obviously tired of having to come and rehome Izuku so much, his Russian accent leaking into his voice as he wrenched open the car door, and smacked Izuku in the back of the head with his calloused hand, gesturing for him to climb in, before rounding the car, opening the door, and climbing into the driver's seat. “Got a family waiting for their next foster, though I’m sure you’ll be a disappointment to them and I’ll be back in a couple weeks to send you elsewhere, cos obviously, no one wants the quirkless girl with nothing to offer.”

Izuku silently nodded along as he spoke, buckling themself in and clutching their backpack close on their lap. They knew not to argue, and they knew the words as true, there was no other truth, none that anyone would believe.

When the car began to move, they watched the world blur with houses and street signs, they felt each bump in the road and each swerve of their mean, old social worker’s poor driving, the scent of cigarettes and cheap alcohol drenching the car dimly reminding Izuku of the half empty package of cigarettes in their backpack, set in one of their hidden pockets. They weren’t a heavy smoker, but a cigarette was sometimes a good trade on the streets for protection or shelter from other former fosters, or friendly homeless people.

With a sigh, they kept quiet. Izuku just hoped they weren’t sent to another extremely strict and abusive home, or another criminal home, even if Mr Gentle was one of the nicest foster parents they’d ever had. Mr Gentle had been a vigilante. He made Izuku a lot of tea and had gotten Izuku their first and only phone.

“Taishi-Chan! Our foster kid’s here!” Shota called from the living room, watching a grey car pull into the driveway through the open blinds with anticipation, nervousness, and excitement. “Can you get Hito-Chan, Nei-Chan, and Tama-Chan from their rooms, please?”

“Of course, Pudding!” He heard Taishiro reply from upstairs as he turned to survey the room ensuring everything was tidy and in its place anxiously, hoping everything looked homey to their newcomer.

Shota wondered if the kid coming to stay was a teenager or younger, it had been a while since a young kid had come to stay with them, they had adopted the last one. Hitoshi, the first kid they adopted, their youngest son, they had taken in when he was 7, Shota and Taishiro had been his parents ever since.

“Dad, is the new kid here?” Shota heard and turned his head to see Neito walk out of the hallway, his room being on the first floor, rather than the second.

“Yeah, Nei-Chan, are you ready? Are you still ok with another kid coming to stay here?” Shota asked, walking over to him, resting his hands on the boy's shoulders, smoothing out the fabric of his shirt. “You know it’s ok if you’re not? And if you have any problems you can come to me or Papa?” Shota started tidying the kids' hair before Neito reached up and grabbed his wrists to stop his anxious movements.

“I know, Dad, I’m ok, and you know I can handle myself against anyone that gives me a problem,” Neito smirked and Shota sighed. His words were true, Neito could be downright mean when someone pissed him off just right. It was awful whenever he got into arguments with his siblings or Shota and Taishiro.

Just when he was about to reply, Taishiro stumbled down the stairs with Hitoshi and Tamaki following him, and the doorbell rang. Nervously, Shota headed to the door, and unlocked it, taking a deep breath as he opened the door.

On the other side of the doorframe stood a tall, plump, balding, 40-50-year-old man, who smelled heavily of cigarettes. A bit behind the man, stood a thin kid who stood at about 5’0, with dark, shaggy, long, green curls that were tucked into a low and loose ponytail, green eyes framed by round black glasses with slight cracks in the lenses, and freckled skin that looked almost sickly pale. Shota was pretty sure they had a 10-year-old this time.

“Mr…” The social worker looked down at the file in his hands with a heavy sigh and a slight roll of his eyes. “Toyomitsu.”

“That’s my husband, my name is Shota Aizawa, Sir, welcome, come in,” Shota corrected as he welcomed them inside, sending the kid a smile as they entered with their head down, curls bouncing with each step. Gesturing back to his husband and children, he introduced them each, sending slightly nervous smiles back to his family.

He tried to ignore the slightly disgusted sneer that curled the man's lips momentarily at the mention of having a husband, brushing it off with his excitement toward having their next kid moving in. He gestured to where they could put their shoes as they entered, noticing the tattered state of the kid's shoes, taking a mental note that new shoes would be something they needed.

“Right, Aizawa-San, I’m Ivan Sokolov. This is Misaki Midoriya,” The man drolled, gesturing plainly toward the kid, Midoriya-Kun. “Here’s her file, have a look through it if you want, I don’t care.” Sokolov-San’s dismissiveness was irking Shota, but he kept a calm facade as he took the file with a nod.

Taishiro stepped forward and Shota glanced behind him, seeing their kids looking between each other almost uncomfortably at the rude tone of voice the social worker had. “Let me show you guys around! Come on, Sweetheart, let’s get you comfortable, hm?” Taishiro smiled down at Midoriya-Kun, absolutely dwarfing her with his tall stature. “We’ve got a room set up for you, and we’ll get you stuff to decorate it with, it’ll be your space, just for you.”

Shota followed as Taishiro started giving the Sokolov-San and Midoriya-Kun a tour of the house, gesturing for Hitoshi, Neito, and Tamaki to stay in the living room.

“By the way, Midoriya-Kun, my name is Taishiro Toyomitsu, feel free to call me whatever you want, I do not have any preferences,” Taishiro led them from the living room to the kitchen, before guiding them down the hallway, showing where to find the downstairs bathroom, the door to the basement, which they used as a gym, and had a hidden and heavily secured armory inside. There was also Neito’s room, and Shota’s shared room with Taishiro in that hallway, along with a linen closet. “You’re welcome in any room, anytime, but if a bedroom door is closed, please knock before coming in.” Midoriya-Kun simply nodded along, not saying a word.

Taishiro then led them upstairs, showing where the upstairs bathroom was, then Tamaki, and Hitoshi’s rooms, followed by a guest room, and finally Midoriya-Kun’s room. “You can put your bag in here if you want, Midoriya-Kun, this is your room from now on,” Shota told her, watching her hug her bag to her chest instead of using the straps.

Midoriya nodded silently but didn’t put her bag down. Instead, Sokolov-San swiped it from her arms, much to Midoriya-kun’s obvious muted discomfort, her hands clutching around nothing, drawn close to her chest.

Sokolov walked across the room to the bed and dumped Midoriya-Kun’s things out of her bag, Shota noticed the frown on Midoriya-Kun’s face and wanted to speak up, maybe stop the social worker, but he didn’t know if this was a necessary part of this social worker’s job. Shota caught glimpses of school books between rolled-up and folded clothing items that were getting unrolled and unfolded messily. Other than clothing, all Midoriya-Kun seemed to have was school stationary, though Shota did catch a glimpse of an old-looking teddy bear, a banged-up water bottle, and a clear box with little bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.

Tossing the emptied bag down on the bed, Sokolov-San turned to look at Midoriya-Kun, Shota was immediately put off by the almost threatening glare set in the man's eyes. “Be a good girl, no more troublemaking.” There seemed to be words Sokolov-San would’ve said instead, but he was holding back, Shota was on edge, he didn’t like the way he was talking and looking at Midoriya-Kun.

Midoriya-Kun didn’t react to the harsh tone of voice, or the glare sent her way, she simply nodded once more before going over to the bed and repacking her bag. As she did that, Sokolov-San led the way out of the room and back downstairs, Shota stayed for a moment. “You make yourself at home, Midoriya-Kun, we’ll be right downstairs if you need us, ok? Come down anytime, or if you’re more comfortable you can stay up here, completely your choice.” When Midoriya nodded, still yet to say a word, Shota followed Sokolov-San and Taishiro downstairs.

Hitoshi, Neito, and Tamaki were seated in the living room, talking to each other quietly so as to not be heard. Shota could see the uncomfortable glances they sent the social worker, who made their home feel less homey with his presence. Shota passed by the couch and patted them each on the head in hopes of giving them some silent, momentary comfort.

Sokolov stopped by the door, turning to them. “Midoriya is a troublemaker, she causes problems in every home I’ve moved her to. She’s difficult to get along with, and I honestly don’t expect her to be here for very long. When you’re ready to be rid of her, you have my number, flick me a text and she’s gone.” The man sighed, rolling his eyes. “She’s a pain in the ass that one. Anyway, that file you can hold onto, that one’s for you, you can look through her information, or not, it doesn’t matter. Any questions before I head out?”

Shota was vexed by the way he spoke as though Midoriya-Kun was a burden, a no-good kind of child, someone completely unwanted. He did his best not to let it show and had to grab his husband's hand, squeezing hard when he noticed Taishiro’s ever-present smile fall, turning angry and suspicious. Taishiro quickly put on a calm facade when Shota squeezed his hand in warning.

“Um, yes, is there a reason she causes trouble?” Shota asked, for the moment focused on collecting information on the little kid moving into their house, rather than biting the man’s head off. Though, Shota was planning on doing a deep dive into the social worker’s background, and then sending Nezu after him, because he did not appreciate the way he was acting about and toward Midoriya-Kun. Children deserve to be treated way nicer.

“Ah, well she picks fights in her foster homes, in the group homes, and at school, she breaks curfews set by her fosters, she just misbehaves and acts out, and no one can really be bothered to deal with her bull,” Sokolov-San complained, grumbling in frustration, his hands on his hips. “She craves the attention or whatever. It doesn’t help that she’s a quirkless good for nothing.”

Squeezing Taishiro’s hand tighter, feeling his husband's grip harden around his hand, and hearing the soft hitches of breath their children in the living room had, Shota fought not to scream at the man for his idiocy, and the cruel way he spoke of the little girl right upstairs. Shota was almost certain that Midoriya-Kun wasn’t starting any fights, or misbehaving in the slightest.

“Ok, we have no more questions, we’ll see you whenever you come to check in.” Shota was trying not to make it so clear how much he needed this man out of his house, but it was difficult not to scream for him to fuck off.

“Right, about that, I won’t be doing that, not an obligation when it comes to quirkless nothings, mostly because I’ll probably be back in a couple of weeks to move her elsewhere, or because she’s already run away, she’s done that several times, by the way, or she’s died somehow,” The man shrugged, speaking as casually as one would about the weather before opening the front door and stepping out. “You have my number, call when you’re done with her.” With that, Sokolov-San closed the door behind him and left Shota feeling murderous.

“Dad, Papa, please send Nezu off to ruin his career?” Hitoshi asked the instant the door was closed and Shota was quick to nod.

“Already planning on it, Hito-Chan,” Shota answered softly, seething beneath the surface because he didn’t want to frighten his children. “That man is going down.”

“It would’ve been real nice to kick that guy hard,” Taishiro mumbled just loud enough for Shota to hear, he nodded in response, agreeing with that wholeheartedly. “Gotta take real good care of that little girl up there, Good God, I can’t imagine how poorly she’s been treated.” Once again, Shota agreed.

“Yeah, Midoriya-Kun needs a home, somewhere to feel safe, who knows when the last time she felt safe was,” Shota murmured, leaning into Taishiro’s side. He looked down at the file still in his hands. “Want to flip through this, for the important information, Taishi-Chan?”

“Sure, Pudding,” Taishiro kissed him on the forehead before leading him toward the kitchen, still holding his hand tightly. “I’ll make the kids some snacks, and of course, for us too, can you check if Midoriya-Kun has any allergies, please?”

“Sure, Taishi-Chan,” Shota replied as he climbed into a seat at the island bar as Taishiro released his hand and went to collect some snack bowls, hearing his sons wander over and sit in the seats beside him, Shota reached over and ruffled Tamaki’s hair. “Hey, Kiddo’s.” Flipping open the file, he skimmed the pages. “Misaki Midoriya, she’s 10, born July 15th in Japan, cannot have fish, shellfish, or cashews, she’s not allergic to any other nuts, and she’s also allergic to bees, Midoriya-Kun should have an EpiPen, which we should confirm later with her.”

“Alright, nothing else right?” Taishiro asked, Shota shook his head and watched as Taishiro wandered around the kitchen looking through the cupboard shelves, and in the fridge. “How about some afternoon vanilla ice cream topped with strawberries, blueberries, and whipped cream? I’ll even get the rainbow sprinkles out, what do ya say?”

“Papa, can we please use the strawberry sauce?” Hitoshi asked, and Shota watched him lean against Tamaki as he looked at Taishiro hopefully. Hitoshi still had the same pleading look as he did back when he was 7, all big droopy eyes, and a pouty lower lip, with slightly drawn-in eyebrows, it was an expression neither Shota nor Taishiro could deny unless they needed to.

“Of course, Bubblegum! All three of you want strawberry syrup?” Shota smiled at the varying replies of ‘yes’ from the kids. “Alright! I hope Midoriya-Kun likes strawberry.” Taishiro laughed, reaching across the island bar to ruffle Hitoshi and Tamaki’s hair, pinching Neito’s cheek instead of messing up his hair because Neito hated it when his hair was anything but tidy. “Do any of you have homework to get done before you go back to school tomorrow?

“I just have to edit an essay for English,” Neito answered, resting his chin on his hands as he leaned against the island bar. “It’s due Tuesday.”

“Oh, yeah, we have an essay…” Hitoshi hummed, pressing his lips together and squinting his eyes closed. Neito and Hitoshi were the same age and in the same middle school class, they were in their final year before high school. “Whoops… I think I got halfway through writing mine before I forgot about it and got distracted…”

“Hitoshi, you get distracted so easily,” Tamaki mumbled, patting Hitoshi on the back as Shota narrowed his gaze on his youngest son, sighing in exasperation.

“Try to get at least a third of your halfway-done essay complete today, and work on the rest tomorrow so that it’s ready to hand in on Tuesday,” Shota told him, getting a pouty nod in response from Hitoshi. “Next time you have an essay, tell me or Papa so we can remind you to get it done, ok, Hito-Chan?”

“Yes, Dad,” Hitoshi sheepishly smiled, Shota reached over and pinched his nose gently, enjoying the soft giggle it got. “Dad!”

“You’re a silly boy, Hito-Chan, very silly,” Shota teased before looking at Tamaki. “Now, what about you, hm? What has Snipe-San given you this time, Tama-Chan?”

Fumbling with his thumbs, Tamaki frowned. “Snipe-Sensei didn’t give us anything this week for homework, but Mic-Sensei gave us an essay, which I finished on Friday, and Cementoss-Sensei gave us some things to research for modern lit.” Tamaki looked up at Shota, his usual, slightly wobbly smile in place. “I’m almost done, Dad.”

“That’s good, Tama-Chan, you’re doing well,” Tamaki had trouble with some of his classes because of his anxiety. He had found himself falling behind, but anytime he had a question or wanted help with something, his anxiety was too overpowering, and he wasn’t able to get the help he needed. Since Tamaki admitted the problem to Taishiro, Shota had been answering whatever questions he needed answers to in order to do his work. “I’m proud of you, Kiddo.” Shota looked at his other two children. “I’m proud of all three of you.”

“Yeah, you three are awesome, you know that?” Taishiro cheered as he slid bowls of icy sweet treats across the counter to the children and Shota, two bowls left in front of him. “Here you guys are, an afternoon treat!”

“Thank you, Papa!” Their children echoed each other, smiling over at Taishiro happily. The kids were almost always smiling at their Papa, it warmed Shota’s heart every time he thought about how much they admired his husband.

“Thank you, Taishi-Chan,” Shota added, adoring the bright grin on his husband's face. Taishiro loved feeding his family, he loved spoiling everyone. “Do you want me to give Midoriya-Kun hers?”

“No, no, Pudding, you stay here, eat, I’ll go upstairs, make sure she’s doing ok, you just relax, I’ll be back,” Taishiro picked up a bowl and walked around the island bar to kiss each of their kid's foreheads, and then peck Shota on the lips. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Sunday’s your day.” Shota smiled at his husband, he was always so determined to have Shota relax on Sundays because Sunday was the only day of the week he had a full day off. Every other day he was teaching, and some nights throughout the week he was doing underground work.

If Taishiro had his way, Shota would have more days off in a week, but unfortunately for him, Shota was a homeroom, law and ethics teacher.

If I put my bag under the bed, that’s just going to be the first place anyone looks for it, so maybe I should put it on that top shelf in the closet? I can’t reach that one though, I’d have to climb the shelves to get to it. Maybe under the desk? No that would be in plain sight, even with the desk chair pushed in. I could take apart one of the floorboards and empty the irreplaceable stuff into it, then leave my bag in one of the more obvious spots-

Izuku’s thoughts were disrupted by a knock on the door. They paused, standing in the middle of the room as they watched the door push open. The super tall man with a suspiciously friendly face poked his head into the room. He was smiling, Izuku just blinked up at him.

“Hey there, Midoriya-Kun- Or do you prefer Misaki-Kun?” The tall man asked and Izuku silently shrugged, holding up two fingers. They preferred Misaki to Midoriya. Overall they would prefer Izuku, but no one knew their name, they hadn’t told anyone, they weren’t ready, and there were only so very few people that would ever call them by their name, so coming out would mostly just be another source of pain, another way to hurt them. “Misaki-Kun then! Should I tell my husband and the kids to call you that too?” Izuku shrugged again but gave a slight nod. “Alrighty! It’s a pleasure to have you here, Misaki-Kun!” The tall man pushed the door open further and took just one step into the room, a bowl held in his hands. “I brought you an afternoon snack! Don’t worry, no fish, shellfish, or cashew nuts! I thought we could all use a sweet treat, you especially!” He held the bowl out toward them, grinning down at them. “You can eat up here if you would prefer to be alone, but if you would like, me, Shota and our three kids are downstairs, you can come eat with us?”

Curious, as no one had ever offered them a bowl of anything for an ‘afternoon snack’, Izuku slowly stepped closer to peer into the bowl being offered to them. They could see cream, colorful mini sticks, bright red shiny stuff, strawberries, and what they were pretty sure were blueberries.

“This is ice cream, whipped cream, strawberries, blueberries, strawberry syrup, and rainbow sprinkles,” The tall man told them. “Do you… like these? I can get you something else if you don’t like any of this.”

Slowly, Izuku reached up, hesitating before wrapping their hands around the bowl, the man smiled and handed it to them. They looked at the contents of the bowl, they had only seen such pretty things you could eat in advertisements.

“Wanna come downstairs, Sweetheart? We would all love to hang out with you,” The tall man told them. “We could all get to know each other, or just put a movie on, relax?”

He wants to gather information to use against me. If I don’t go downstairs though, he might get angry, so I should go downstairs.

Quietly grabbing their backpack and slipping it over their shoulder, they nodded. The tall man beamed down at them. “Yay! You’re gonna fit in here so well, Misaki-Kun, I can feel it!” With that, the man led the way downstairs.

Chapter Text

Misaki’s footsteps were much too light, in Taishiro’s opinion, not only was she tiny, she wasn’t speaking, and she was even more quiet than Hitoshi had been when he first moved in after getting muzzled and starved by his former foster mother. Her footsteps being so quiet was a terrible sign of what her life had been like.

Taishiro was still heartbroken over the curious and confused look Misaki had on her face while looking into the bowl of sweet treats. It was as though she had never been given anything like it.

What child has never been given any sweet treats? Who wouldn’t want to spoil their little angel? I love spoiling my little angels.

As they made it downstairs, he found his kids and husband had moved from the kitchen to the living room, Neito was scrolling through animated movies, it was his turn to pick the movie the family watched. Taishiro’s darling husband looked over when they made it downstairs, and his heart healed just a little at the smile Shota beamed his way, and how much sweeter his smile got when he noticed Misaki walking a few steps behind him. “Taishi-Chan, Midoriya-Kun, come sit, we’re about to put a movie on.” Beside Shota, Tamaki nodded, getting a spoonful of ice cream from his bowl, before patting the seat cushion beside him as he put the spoon in his mouth.

Gently guiding Misaki without touching her, unsure of how she would react to physical contact, to sit down in the spot beside Tamaki, Taishiro sent his husband and kids a grin. “Misaki-Kun, Pudding, she would prefer us to call her that,” Taishiro corrected his husband softly as he quickly went to the kitchen to get his afternoon treat before rushing back and sitting on Misaki-Kun’s other side.

“Oh, sorry, Misaki-Kun, of course, no problem,” Shota’s nervous apology made Taishiro want to cuddle him. He was always so anxious when something big was happening, or when something was changing. Misaki just nodded once more, staring down at the bowl in her hands, sitting awkwardly on the couch cushion, clearly feeling out of place. “Hey, I looked through your allergies, just to confirm, do you have an EpiPen, Misaki-Kun?”

Misaki looked up from her bowl and at Shota, Taishiro watched her eyebrows furrow, something confused flashing in her expression. “Sweetheart, do you know what an EpiPen is?” Taishiro asked gently, watching the slow shake of Misaki’s head in response. “Ok, that’s ok, it’s just something that would help you if you came in contact with one of your allergies.”

“I’ll set up an appointment with Chiyo-San,” Shota chipped in, pulling out his phone to do just that. Misaki stayed quiet, she looked back down at her bowl, the contents were slightly melted.

“It’s really good, you should try it,” Hitoshi called from beside Neito, somewhat hiding behind him, he always got shy when a foster kid came to stay, because of the bullying he had been through at school before Taishiro and Shota found out and got involved, and some of the meaner foster kids that had quickly been moved after three warnings to not treat Hitoshi poorly. They couldn’t have Hitoshi feeling unsafe in their home. “Papa likes giving us treats, and making really good food, if you don’t like it though, there’s sure to be something somewhere in the kitchen you will like.”

“Yup! Due to mine and Tamaki’s quirks, we have a wide selection of foods in the kitchen,” Taishiro explained. “I have to eat a lot for my quirk to work since my quirk uses my fat, and Tamaki here can manifest physical characteristics of whatever he eats.” He hoped that explanation didn’t go right over Misaki’s head, but Taishiro didn’t know how else to explain it since Tamaki’s quirk was so complex. “Anyway, we’ve got lots of things to snack on, and unless it has a name on it, you’re welcome to any of it!” Misaki didn’t respond, and none of them pushed her to.

A moment later, Neito had finally selected the movie he wanted to watch, and they all settled down to watch it with their afternoon sweets.

Misaki had yet to touch hers, as though she wasn’t sure whether or not to try it, and Taishiro didn’t want to push her to eat, sure that she was at least a bit overwhelmed despite how calm she let herself be perceived.

Tamaki wasn’t social, he was an anxious mess. He also was rarely the one to comfort someone, unless it was Mirio or one of his little brothers. So he didn’t really know how to make Misaki comfortable. Since Tamaki had moved in, and was adopted by Dad and Papa, Misaki was the first foster they had brought in, Neito and Hitoshi had been adopted years before Tamaki, despite him being the oldest. 

This was a new experience for Tamaki, one out of his comfort zone, he liked having a steady home, with family he knew and was able to communicate with. Though it was out of Tamaki’s comfort zone, he wasn’t opposed to having Misaki living with him. A ten-year-old, quirkless girl who was scarily silent, with an asshole of a social worker that spoke of her poorly? Tamaki knew there were few other homes that would treat her well.

Here, in Tamaki’s home, where he lived with his Dad, Papa, and two younger brothers, at least the girl would be safe, and Tamaki felt that was more important than some temporary discomfort.

Misaki was sitting to his right, perched on the edge of the couch cushion with the bowl of melting cream between her hands. Her face was too flat for someone so young, too lacking of expression, of emotion. Tamaki had learned at the beginning of the year, his second year at UA High School, that heightened anxiety, suppressed emotions and self-expression were just a few signs of a troubled past.

Kids were supposed to be happy and untroubled. Misaki’s eyes had a calculating look to them, as though she was thinking over her every move, and trying to hide every breath. Tamaki kind of wanted to hug her, because he was very familiar with anxiety, and was sure that despite the calm demeanor, the kid was anxiety-ridden.

One wrong move, one wrong move, don’t make a wrong move, that’s bad, don’t do it, just fade into the background, stay still, stay quiet, don’t be bad, don’t upset them, don’t make them upset, and what is an EpiPen? What does it have to do with my allergies? When was my last allergic reaction? Probably before the foster system. What does the EpiPen do? Does it have special ink? Maybe it’s got quirk-created ink with healing capabilities. Why’s it called an EpiPen? Oh, yeah, I’m holding a bowl. Tall Man said it had ice cream under the whipped cream, and the bright red stuff is strawberry syrup. I like strawberries. I shouldn’t eat this. I want to. What if it’s bad? What if it’s poisoned? What if they’re trying to kill me? Is the spoon poisoned or the ice cream? Or the entire thing? Probably the spoon, everyone else seems to have a bowl of the same thing, it’s probably the spoon. Or the bowl. Should I wash my hands? I shouldn’t eat this. It’s a trick. It looks so pretty though. I like ice cream. I never get ice cream. I shouldn’t eat the ice cream. It’s such a waste of food though. Bad. Not supposed to waste food, especially because I’m a null. Nulls don’t get to waste any food, because Null’s are worth less than the table scraps. So I should eat it? But they could get arrested for attempted murder if they poisoned me. That’s bad. They’re quirked, they shouldn’t be arrested for trying to kill me.

Hitoshi’s first opinion about the new foster kid, Misaki, was that she was adorable.

She was so little and quiet, her frizzy curls looked soft despite how clear it was they were poorly maintained, most likely because Misaki never had access to the right products and had never been taught how to care for them. Her freckles were like paint splatters on snow-pale skin. Her eyes were so bright and green behind the cracked lenses of her glasses, but he could see the wary gleam in each flick of her eye, from left, to right, to up, to down, they were scared, rightfully so.

Not to say that his family was anything to be scared of unless you wronged them or were a villain, but Hitoshi was sure that Misaki had been hurt too much. She had every right to be scared, to calculate exactly what she did, to analyze everyone in order to ensure she wasn’t hurt again.

So his second opinion was that Misaki was traumatized, probably so much that her trauma would scare Hitoshi to hear about.

The third opinion he came to have was that she needed someone to protect her, and someone to love her. He was sure, so long as nothing took a wrong or unexpected turn, she would be protected and loved with them.

Hitoshi stayed tucked against Neito as the movie played. Despite how cute and scared the little girl looked, he still felt anxious. He had been bullied a lot before his parents found out and got involved, both at school and when foster kids were living with them, and because of that, he almost always felt anxious with new people.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t have a reason to feel anxious around Misaki soon, especially since he was sure her social worker was a quirkist fool, who just wanted to pin every hurt Misaki got on her, blaming her for everything anyone did to her. Hitoshi didn’t think it would take long for him to feel more comfortable with her.

Chapter Text

Izuku couldn’t bring themself to eat the ice cream the tall man had given them. They partially felt bad for not eating it, but the rest of them was running on the little bit of self-preservation they had that kept them alive. It wasn’t that they cared greatly about themself, but for the moment they weren’t particularly interested in dying, even if they thought about it often.

The tall man kept trying to feed them, but Izuku couldn’t get themself to accept anything they were offered. Aside from the theory they had about the tall man trying to poison them, they felt bad about eating, and the action of eating itself made them feel sick sometimes. Sometimes it was scary to eat, nauseating. Izuku hated to feel like they were going to be sick because throwing up was scary. Sometimes they had to force themself to eat because not eating made them nauseous too.

They couldn’t win. Jellyfish had it good, they didn’t have to think and feel like humans did constantly.

Izuku wished they were a jellyfish. They weren’t a jellyfish.

Another reason Izuku felt bad was that they couldn’t focus on whatever movie was on the TV. They felt like they should’ve been paying attention, but Izuku was more focused on the fact there was someone on his left and another on his right, there were more people in the room, and angering any of them would most likely mean bad things.

Izuku was tired of bad things.

In the last few hours of Misaki being in their home, Neito had kept a subtle eye on her, taking in small, barely noticeable behaviors, and slight movements.

She was a cute little thing, he could see that, just a little kid who in some way had lost her guardians. To make matters worse, she was an orphan child with no quirk, and in the world they lived in, a quirk was how many people decided whether or not they liked you. It was how they decided whether to torment you, ignore you, or worship you.

A quirkless child was the perfect target for a power-filled person, Neito had seen it firsthand, his little sister had been bullied so hard that the trauma was almost too much for her little mind to handle, she had been quirkless. Then she was abducted, and her body was found in a local playground, strung to the monkey bars by her arms. Neito had caught glimpses of the crime scene photos, he remembered the way his sister's head was hanging, low as though defeated, though truly lifeless, the purpling marks around her neck as though she had been strangled, the gaping hole through her chest where her heart should have been, and the crimson puddle beneath the dangling body of who was once his younger sister.

It had been three days to her birthday when she died, instead of turning 7, forever she would stay 6. Forever young, and only a memory, one too distant for most to reach. Neito was not most, he remembered the rare smiles his sister gave, and the joyful laugh only Neito seemed to be able to get out of her. He remembered her love for her pin-straight blonde hair, and her dreams of having a butterfly aviary right in her backyard one day.

He remembered his little sister. Her name was Kiku.

Neito was looking at Misaki, and there was so much of Kiku he could see in her, but he could also see that she was a completely different person. Older and almost definitely severely traumatized, and without anyone in her corner to simply make her smile, at least as far as Neito knew, which wasn’t much considering he’d only met Misaki a few hours back.

What were the chances that in his life, Neito got the pleasure of having two little sisters, who were both quirkless?

He hoped Misaki wasn’t going to run away or get taken away, because Neito knew there were very few safe places for quirkless people, and he was sure that their home was one of those few places. 

Neito glanced down at Hitoshi, who was hiding, tucked against his side, from Misaki. Neito had seen him like this a few times around classmates and foster kids who stayed with them. Hitoshi was shy and anxious, but Neito knew that he wasn’t scared of Misaki in particular, just that he had been hurt before and that was reason enough for him to be a bit wary, Neito was content to be his shield until he got comfortable enough not to hide. 

Neito had always been a protector, to his family specifically. First with Kiku, now with Hitoshi and Tamaki when his social anxiety grew too strong to push through, and hopefully, one day Misaki might let him protect her too.

Shota could see the stiffness in Misaki’s posture, despite the way her shoulders were slouched in an attempt to look casual, along with her calm expression, a shield for her true feelings to hide behind. 

He hoped she didn’t feel too uncomfortable, or out of place, but he knew that was far too wishful. It was only her first day with them, so of course there would be some level of discomfort.

Shota could see small fearful movements she made from the corner of his eye, whenever Tamaki or Taishiro moved a bit too fast, but it was very clear she was pretending to be relaxed. It was as though she was ready to run, or dodge, or prepare herself to take a hit, and it broke Shota’s heart, similarly to how Hitoshi, Neito, and Tamaki had all broken his heart, in some way, multiple times, with their traumatic pasts.

A little girl shouldn’t even have the thought to be scared of being perceived as scared.

Misaki also wasn’t eating anything, one of Taishiro’s love languages was feeding other people, so he kept trying to give her things to eat, trying to find something she would like, but she silently refused every time he tried to share something with her. At one point, Shota thought he caught a passing gleam of disgust when food was being offered to her, and Shota couldn’t tell whether or not it was the food that was the problem, or if it was the idea of eating.

Izuku escaped to the room they were given when their foster family started standing from the couches and moving to the kitchen.

Once they closed the door, Izuku got to work on finding the right floorboard to pry up and out. They picked a floorboard that wasn’t just on the perimeter of the room, or in the center, because anywhere close to the walls would be obvious, and the boards in the center of the room would have made a different sound or would shift if stepped on. The floorboard they chose was beside the bedside cabinet.

Opening one of their hidden backpack pockets, they rummaged around until they found their multitool. They pried the board up and found a room-y space beneath it enough space to put their entire backpack in, which they wouldn’t do because that would be suspicious. They put in everything that they didn’t want taken, and then some.

They would prefer if nothing was taken from them because replacing things was a pain, but they were a realist and a pessimist. Hopefulness and optimism wasn’t their strong suit. 

It never would be.

Chapter Text

Frowning, Shota made his way upstairs to check on Tamaki, Hitoshi, and Misaki before he went to bed. When Taishiro went up to tell Misaki that it was dinnertime earlier in the night, apparently Misaki just looked at him before going back to working on something in a school book. She hadn’t come down for dinner.

Shota decided that he would check in on Tamaki and Hitoshi first, and see how they were adjusting to another person in the house.

His eldest and youngest sons were anxiety-riddled like Shota was, Tamaki had mild, almost severe social anxiety, and Hitoshi had minor social anxiety, as well as slight generalized anxiety. Neito wasn’t diagnosed with anxiety like his brothers, he was a rather confident teenager, more like Taishiro than Shota in that aspect. All of his sons were diagnosed with some level of depression though, just as Shota was. Somehow, even after the years spent in heroics, Taishiro was still a ray of sunshine who hadn’t gotten a depression diagnosis, not that he didn’t have his moments.

Knocking on Tamaki’s door, Shota waited a moment before peeking inside, finding his eldest, but newest son at his desk, doing the last of his homework and looking a bit tired. “Hey, Butterfly,” Walking into the room, and closing the door behind him, Shota crouched by Tamaki’s desk chair, giving his shoulder a careful pat. “How are you doing?”

“I’m almost finished my homework, and then I’ll go to bed, Dad,” Tamaki replied, a slight smile tugging at his lips. Shota smiled back. “Is Mi-Misaki-Kun adjusting ok?”

“I haven’t gone to check in on her yet, but I have a feeling it’s going to take a while for her to get comfortable here with us. How are you adjusting to having Misaki-Kun here?” Shota asked in return, watching Tamaki fiddle with his pen while he contemplated his answer.

“Well, right now, I’m a bit uncomfortable,” Tamaki started, clearly trying to work out what words he wanted to say. “I don’t like change, and now there’s another person in the house that I have to get used to. I don’t mind that Misaki-Kun is here, I think it’s good that she’s here, and I know my discomfort is only temporary. I think I’ll like having a little sister, maybe, I hope.”

Smiling, Shota reached up and ruffled his son's hair. “Thank you for being honest with me. If you have anything you need to talk about, you can always come to me or your Papa. So you’re ok with Misaki staying with us?” Tamaki nodded, smiling a bit wider. Standing up, Shota leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I’m glad, Tama-Chan, I think our home is going to be a really good place for Misaki-Kun.”

“Dad, do you think she will be ok?” Tamaki inquired, ever the worrier. “She just… Seems way too… Sharp, calculated for someone her age.”

Sighing and running a hand through his own hair, Shota looked away from Tamaki for a moment, toward the butterfly tapestry spread across Tamaki’s wall above his bed. “I hope so. Quirkless people… The survival statistics aren’t good at all, and from what I’ve read of the discrimination online… I dread what that girl has been through.” Looking back at Tamaki, Shota pulled a smile back on his face. “So we’ve gotta take care of her, ok? Make sure she feels safe in our home.”

“Yes, Dad,” Tamaki nodded. “Ok.”

Pressing another kiss to Tamaki’s forehead, Shota beamed at him. “Thank you, Tama-Chan, get to bed soon, ok? Good night.”

“Good night, Dad,” Tamaki waved as Shota made his way out of the room. “Tell Papa to sleep well for me.”

“Will do, Tama-Chan,” Shota promised before quietly shutting the door. Yawning, Shota made his way across the hall to Hitoshi’s door and knocked. Again, he waited a moment before opening the door and poking his head in. Hitoshi was sitting on his bed with his school book in his lap. “Working on your essay, Hito-Chan?”

“Yes, Dad,” Hitoshi looked over at him, hair messier than usual, most likely from running his fingers through it while he was working. “Papa reminded me to take my melatonin an hour ago, so I have a bit before I fall asleep.” Chiyo had diagnosed him with insomnia when Shota and Taishiro had found him wide awake at night too many times when he was 9. 

Hitoshi, despite not being biologically related to Shota, certainly took after him.

“Alright, good job, do you need any help?” Sitting down on the edge of Hitoshi’s bed, Shota looked over his shoulder to see how he was doing. Hitoshi shook his head, tilting his head to lean his head on Shota’s shoulder with a soft yawn, Shota wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I think you’re going to fall asleep sooner than you thought.” He laughed, patting Hitoshi’s unruly waves of hair. “Alright, Cub, how are you feeling about Misaki-Kun living with us?”

“I want to hug her, but I think that would scare her,” Hitoshi hummed, drumming his fingers against his school book. “Um, I’m anxious, at the moment at least, but I don’t think it will take long for me to get less… shaky. Misaki-Kun needs somewhere to be safe. This is the safest place I know.”

Gently squeezing Hitoshi’s shoulders, Shota kissed his temple. “Thank you for being honest with me. You’re right, Misaki-Kun needs somewhere safe to live, and she needs to be cared for, just like you, Nei-Chan, and Tama-Chan needed before me and your Papa took you in.”

“She seems so scared,” Hitoshi murmured, glancing up at him. “She needs a lot of love, Dad. A lot.”

Smiling down at his son, the first of his children to be adopted, Shota nodded. “She’ll get it, Cub.”

After letting Hitoshi show Shota the work he had done on his English essay, Shota made his way back down the hall to where Misaki’s room was by the staircase.

Gently, he knocked, not wanting to startle her, especially not if she was actually asleep. Slowly Shota opened the door when there was no response on the other side. Glancing around the room, Shota found Misaki had yet to unpack anything, her room still tidy and empty as it had been when they gave her the room. Misaki was lying on top of the bed, above the covers, curled up in a way that made her look smaller, and vulnerable, her knees almost to her chest, head tilted in, and arms wrapped around her legs.

Shota sighed, feeling himself smile softly at the sight of the little girl. Making sure to take careful, quiet steps, Shota entered the room and grabbed the untouched blanket across the end of the bed. He didn’t want to pick her up and lay her under the covers because he didn’t want to wake her or scare her. Gently, Shota tugged the blanket to lightly drape overtop of Misaki, carefully and methodically tucking it around her to keep her warm.

For a moment, Shota couldn’t help but stare. Misaki was so young and surely so scared, he couldn’t help but want to save her from the world she was cursed by. Shota turned to the desk and slipped a pen out of the pen holder, as well as a piece of refill from one of the desk draws that he carefully tore off. Bent over the desk, Shota began to write Misaki a note.

‘Misaki-Kun,

I hope your first day in our home wasn’t too overwhelming,

And I hope you slept well.

I know that being here is probably really scary for you, and though I’m sure you won’t believe us, you will always be cared for and about here in our home.

If you need anything, come to me (Shota) or Taishiro, and I’m sure that Tamaki, Neito, and Hitoshi would also be able to help you if you went to them instead.

Just so you know, Kiddo; Tamaki, and Hitoshi get anxious with new people, so if they seem shy around you, that’s why, it’s not because they dislike you or anything.

See you in the morning, Misaki-Kun!

-Shota.’

He put the pen back in its holder before setting the note on the bedside cabinet beside her cracked glasses.

Shota took another moment, looking at Misaki. He really hoped that she would be able to stay with them and become family, though it was too early to tell how her personality would blend with everyone elses. Taishiro and him had already decided that so long as Misaki and their sons were comfortable, Misaki would stay with them.

The quirkless population had very little luck, unfortunately.

Despite the desire to run his fingers through the curls splayed around Misaki’s head like a sunflower, Shota resisted and left the room, gently closing the door behind him with another sigh.

He stood there in the hallway for a long moment before heading downstairs. It was time to talk to Neito, and Shota was sure his son was going to need a really good hug, if not tonight, then soon.

Over the years, Shota and Taishiro had heard snippets of stories Neito had of his little sister, who died somehow and was quirkless. Whenever he realized he was talking about her with them, he would cut himself off with a depressive air to him, as though he remembered all over again that his sister, Kiku, was dead. Neito didn’t want to talk about his feelings about her all that much with them, which was his right, his boundary that Shota and Taishiro respected. He talks with Inui, Shota’s colleague, who happened to be a UA school counselor working towards his therapist certification, Neito works through his thoughts and feelings about his past with Inui every fortnight. Hitoshi and Tamaki did the same, except Tamaki saw Inui once a week, and Hitoshi met with Inui once a month.

Making it downstairs, Shota turned down the hallway, approaching Neito’s door and gently knocking, hearing a soft ‘Enter’ on the other side. Neito was his only son who actually said anything when someone knocked on the door.

Turning the door handle and pushing open the door, Shota entered the room, softly closing the door behind him, spotting Neito in his hanging chair, crocheting with tired eyes focused on the hook and the wool. Shota walked over to him and patted him on the shoulder. “What’s my little lion making this time, hm?” Shota asked, noting that this time Neito had chosen to use a soft green colored wool, almost a mint kind of green.

“I’m making Misaki-Kun a bunny,” Neito explained, pausing in his crocheting to hold up the ball of wool he’d picked. “I don’t know her favorite color, so I just chose a light green for her.” Looking back at his project, Neito continued working on it. “I figured she didn’t have many, if any, comfort items, it really sucks when you have nothing to comfort you.”

Shota took a seat on the floor in front of him, nodding along with his words. “I see, that’s very nice of you, Nei-Chan.” Shota sat and watched the soothing motion of the hook and wool winding repetitively, silent, not daring to break Neito’s calm, not wanting to mess with the comfort Neito was giving himself through his crocheting. Crochet had become a self-soothing method as well as a source of entertainment for Neito a few months after he had moved into their home when he had started to get comfortable. “Nei-Chan, can I ask how you feel about Misaki-Kun staying with us?” Shota inquired softly, hoping the question didn’t break the calm in the quiet.

“I think there’s nowhere else for her to be where she would be safe, and that she really needs a good home,” Neito answered, never looking away from his project. “She needs love, protection, guidance, and whatever can be salvaged of a childhood,” Neito continued, taking a second to look up at Shota, eyes twitching just enough to narrow slightly. “Please don’t send her away.”

Shota leaned forward and gripped Neito’s forearms, squeezing them gently. “We don’t plan to. Nei-Chan, we plan on keeping her here so long as she, you, and your brothers are comfortable, the only reason she would leave is because one or all of you are uncomfortable in one house together. Me and your Papa just want you all to be happy. Misaki-Kun included.”

Eyes softening from their slightly narrowed ways, Neito looked away and back at his crocheting project, a minuscule smile tugging at his lips as he went back to work. “Ok.” He said. “I think she’s really scared and really tired of being hurt.”

“Yeah?” Shota murmured, gently rubbing circles into Neito’s arms.

“Mhm,” Neito nodded. “It’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” Shota agreed. “But, with time, hopefully, we can show her she doesn’t have to be afraid of us at the very least.”

“Yeah, ok,” Neito sighed as though he was doubtful yet hopeful that any of their efforts would be worth anything.

After a while of sitting with Neito quietly and reminding him that he needed to get to bed soon since it was a school night, Shota finally made his way to the bedroom after a final sweep of the house to make sure the security cameras were on, the doors and windows were locked, and the curtains were all closed.

Taishiro was already in bed, a book in his hands, and a smile directed Shota’s way. “Hey, Pudding, how are the kids, and what did they say?” He asked, setting his bookmark between the open pages before closing the book and setting it aside.

“Hito-Chan, Tamaki-Chan, and Neito-Chan all want Misaki-Kun to stay and hopefully learn to be ok, though Hito-Chan and Tama-Chan have their initial anxiety, so at the moment they’re feeling a bit skittish. Hitoshi-Chan was working on his Essay when I went up, but he’s probably fallen asleep by now, Tamaki-Chan was just finishing off some homework, and Neito-Chan was crocheting a toy for Misaki-Kun,” Shota told his husband as he tugged off his sweater to replace with one of his husbands old, but still giant on Shota, t-shirts. “He’s making her a bunny.”

“I’m glad they all want her to stay right now, and I’m so proud of my little Marshmallow and Dumpling for being honest about their anxiety playing up,” Taishiro cooed, practically beaming with his pride. “Aw, and my sweet Mochi making her a present already? That’s so nice of him. How was Misaki-Kun?”

“Misaki-Kun was asleep. She’s curled up on top of the bedspread in her room. I tucked her in with the blanket that was at the end of the bed and left her a note.” Shota told him as he pulled on his favorite cat-themed pajama pants. “Taishi-Chan, she looked so little, I just wanted to hold her and tell her everything was ok.”

As Shota started climbing into bed, he felt Taishiro’s arms wind around his waist and across his back, practically lifting him on top of Taishiro, as his husband often liked to do, as the cuddler he was. Shota snuggled into his husband's soft flesh, sighing softly in content. “Hopefully, maybe one day, we will be able to do that,” Taishiro told him, rubbing Shota’s back with one hand as the other dragged the covers overtop of them. “For now though, it’s one step at a time, and I say, it’s time to sleep now, My Darling Shota. You’ve got a couple of law and ethics classes to teach tomorrow.”

“Mm, that is unfortunately true, yes,” Shota sighed before starting to yawn. “Ok, goodnight, Taishi-Chan.”

“G’night, Pudding,” Taishiro whispered before drenching the room in lightless black with a single tap to his lamp.

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Chapter Text

Waking up, Izuku took a panicked, groggy moment to figure out where the fuck they were.

It didn’t take long for them to remember they were moved to a foster home with a very tall man, his shorter but still very tall husband, and their three also tall sons.

They noticed the blanket on top of them, which they were pretty sure they hadn’t gotten under before falling asleep, so they assumed someone must have been in the room at some point during their sleep. That was almost always a risk in their foster homes and it was terrifying over half of the time.

Tapping around on the bedside cabinet beside them, just before their fingers bumped into the frames of their glasses, they felt paper beneath their fingertips. Slipping their glasses on, Izuku sat up and glanced over at the cabinet, seeing a sheet of faintly lined paper. Picking it up, they focused on the black ink donning it.

Reading through the words, Izuku didn’t believe a word, they were trying to fool Izuku, they were lying, trying to get them to feel safe when they weren’t. They set the paper back on the bedside cabinet, turning it so it laid upside down, the words covered from view.

Looking at the alarm clock, Izuku internally groaned, though externally only sighed. It was time to get ready for school if they wanted to make it in time. Aldera was basically on the other side of Musutafu, so if Izuku was ready to go in twenty minutes, it would be just after 6 AM, it would take roughly an hour to walk from their latest foster home to school.

If they didn’t get lost.

Grumbling to themself, they got off of the bed and smoothed the covers, somewhat procrastinating because they knew the walk, followed by the 6 and a half hours of school, followed by the walk back, was going to suck.

With a sigh, Izuku got down on their stomach to grab their backpack from under the bed, then rolled onto their back and glared at the ceiling.

They had a feeling that it would be a tiring day, not that the other days were energizing.

Neito was on his way upstairs to wake Hitoshi up, because his little brother always forgot to set, or simply slept through his morning alarms, and sometimes, unless Neito bribed him, he couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed. That was because of his depression, Neito had similar episodes at times.

Just as he made it to the top of the staircase, yawning and trying to smooth his sleep-messed hair, a door swung open with a soft creak, and out stepped Misaki, wearing a worn black uniform, her unruly hair tied in a loose half ponytail, and a backpack slung over her shoulders. She picked at her skirt as she closed the door gently, and paused slightly when she registered Neito’s presence.

“Good morning, Misaki-Kun,” Neito greeted her, keeping his voice soft, gentle, not wanting to give her any more reasons to be afraid. Misaki glanced at him, not moving from her door, hands fisting in her skirt, she remained silent, Neito was pretty sure she hadn’t said a word since her arrival. “You’re getting ready for school already? What do you want for breakfast? Papa’s got lots of options for the whole house.”

Blinking, Misaki seemed to scan Neito, eyes flickering over his face to his neck, arms, and legs, before her eyes flicked down to her socked feet, hands never moving from her skirt.

Neito nodded silently, noting that she didn’t seem keen to voice her thoughts for the moment. “I’m going to wake Hitoshi up, I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you if you want to join me. I’m Neito, by the way, if you forgot.” He said, before walking slowly down the hallway, giving Misaki time to decide whether or not she wanted to follow him.

Biting back a smile when he heard soft steps of socked feet behind him on the carpeted floor, Neito kept his gaze ahead and only stopped when he made it to the door. Misaki's steps while audible were strangely soft.

Knocking, though he knew Hitoshi was asleep and wouldn’t wake to it, Neito turned the doorknob and took a few steps inside the dim room, hearing Misaki stop at the doorway.

Hitoshi was curled up, facing toward the wall, rather than the door, his favorite cat plushie wrapped tightly in his arms. His hair was a mess, Neito rolled his eyes, knowing Hitoshi probably wouldn’t even brush it before leaving the house.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Neito gently grabbed Hitoshi’s shoulder, he squeezed it before he began to rub from his shoulder to his elbow, slow and soothing, his typical way of waking Hitoshi gently. A few times he had gotten out a spray bottle to wake him with, but that was only when he was angry at Hitoshi for whatever reason.

From the corner of his eye, Neito could see Misaki was still peeking into the room from the doorway. He assumed she didn’t want to trespass by entering, or felt out of place, perhaps both.

Slowly, Hitoshi blinked open hazy lilac eyes and looked up at Neito. “Aniki, I wanna go back to sleep.” He mumbled, a slight whining tone to his voice.

Sighing, Neito shook his head. “I know you do, Otouto, but we’ve got school today.” He patted Hitoshi on the head as he shuffled to face Neito. “If it makes you feel better though, look who’s here,” Neito whispered, and sleepily Hitoshi looked around until his eyes landed on where Misaki stood awkwardly in the doorway, fidgeting with the fabric of her skirt still.

Anxiously, Hitoshi slowly reached up to grab Neito’s hand from off his shoulder, immediately beginning to give gentle tugs to his fingers and carefully play with them. “Good morning, Misaki-Kun,” Hitoshi shyly welcomed her, waving slightly with his free hand before aborting the action and moving both of his hands to Neito’s.

Glancing over at Misaki, Neito watched her hide behind the doorframe, just barely peeking out and over at them. Internally, Neito cooed over how shy and young it made her look, while also screaming about whoever the hell hurt her and how they should go die in a hole for it. Hitoshi’s hands gripped Neito’s even tighter, and he could assume his thought process was similar. “You don’t have to hide, Misaki-Kun, it’s ok.”

“M-Mhm!” Hitoshi agreed, nodding his head. “Yeah, yo-you can come in if you want to.” He told her, clearly wanting Misaki to feel welcome, as Neito was sure they all did.

Misaki didn’t enter the room, but she peered into the room just a smidge more.

“You’re- Um. You’re ready for school already, you- Uh- Must’ve gotten up early, Misaki-Kun,” Hitoshi awkwardly pointed out, his hands tightening around Neito’s, silently pleading for his help.

“What school do you go to?” Neito added to the conversation to help his brother out, gently squeezing Hitoshi’s hands, trying to soothe his anxiousness without drawing attention to it.

For a moment, Misaki just stood there, fidgeting with her uniform, glancing toward them and away once, twice, then once again. Then Misaki stuck her hand into one of her pockets and rummaged around before seeming to find what she was looking for and pulling it out. She held it up, and Neito blinked in surprise at the pen in her hand, it was black and silver, and slightly old-looking, as though it had been used quite a bit. Then Neito noticed the little white scripture on the body of the pen. Standing up slowly, not to startle Misaki, Neito took a few steps closer to read the pen, releasing Hitoshi’s hand with a gentle pat on his way up.

“Aldera Elementary, hm?” Neito thought for a moment, trying to decipher whereabouts her school was located. “I think I’ve heard of that one before, but I don’t think I know where it is.”

“It’s… It’s closer to the run-down side of Musutafu, isn’t it? I think I’ve been around there on my way somewhere with Dad and Papa.” Hitoshi quietly said as Neito sat back down on the bed and let him retake his hands.

Misaki just shrugged, not giving any definitive or audible answer. He was starting to wonder if she was just shy, or if she was mute for whatever possible reason.

Poor girl.

Putting the pen away, Misaki awkwardly glanced at them before slowly stepping away from the door frame and out of sight in the hallway.

Glancing at Hitoshi, Neito sighed. “Up, Hitoshi-Otouto, time to get ready for school,” Hitoshi grumbled and pouted, but he started getting out of bed despite his grumblings.

When Izuku got downstairs, they were halfway through the living room, on their way to grab their shoes, when they were startled by a voice. “Ah, Misaki-Kun! Hey, Sweetheart, come over here, let’s get you some breakfast, hm?” It was the Tall Man’s voice. Glancing behind them, they saw the tall man and his shorter tall husband.

“Good morning, Misaki-Kun,” The shorter man greeted them through a yawn, he seemed tired, tired enough to go back to sleep. Misaki felt that tired on the inside but they weren’t sure it showed much on their face. “You’re ready for school already? Good girl, good job, I’ll drop you off soon, Kiddo. Aldera Elementary, right? I’ll get you there, I’ve got to meet with the principal and the receptionist, just to make sure they’re able to contact us if you need us, and update any information.”

Izuku didn’t want to get into a car, not really. It was probably a trap, no normal person would suspect they were going to get attacked in a small space like that, in public where there are witnesses. Izuku had heard a lot over the years though, that they were not a normal person, that they were farthest from normal than most had ever seen.

Slowly following the adults, not wanting to anger them, Izuku held back their confused frown at the outfit the tall man wore. It was familiar and odd, it looked casual, but not casual enough to actually be a casual outfit. The colors were bright and the fabric sat comfortably on the man's body, it seemed like something designed specifically for this person, rather than bought in-store.

As they thought about the peculiar choice of clothing, they could hear footsteps from the staircase and the soft closing of doors.

“Come take a seat, Misaki-Kun,” The tired man was sitting at the island bar, Izuku hadn’t noticed him get there, and he was gesturing to the other seats that were tucked beneath the counter.

Quietly and without giving a response, Izuku pulled the stool farthest from the tired man out and took a short moment to figure out how to climb onto it. When they finally got onto the cushioned stool, Izuku silently folded their hands in front of them on the counter and kept their head down.

“I’m making bacon and eggs for me, Tamaki, and Neito, and toast with strawberry jam on it for Shota and Hitoshi, what would you like, Misaki-Kun?” The tall man asked, the sounds of closing cabinets and clanging plates and pans filling the room, Izuku didn’t look up, they simply shrugged. Even if they were able to bring themself to get the food in their mouth, there was no promise they would be able to keep it down. “How about I give you some toast and a bit of bacon? I’m not sure what you like, but you don’t seem keen on eating much just yet,” Once again, Izuku only shrugged. “Alright, Sweetheart.”

Secretly, they were grateful to not have been offered any eggs. They hated eggs, and could never keep them down for long.

The tall man cleared his throat after a moment where the only sounds were the beginnings of meals being made. “Misaki-Kun, I’ve set up a doctor's appointment for you this afternoon, is that ok? It’s with a colleague of mine, you might know her as Recovery Girl?” Izuku did know of Recovery Girl, they had a few chapters of information written about her in one of their notebooks. They gave a slight nod. They weren’t keen on doctors, or heroes all that much, but they weren’t about to argue with a foster parent since it would only mean bad things for Izuku. “Alright. It’s just a checkup, really, Misaki-Kun, so don’t worry too much about it. You’ll probably get an EpiPen, seeing as it says your allergies are quite bad in your file and that you actually require one, and Recovery Girl will check your medical information to make sure you’ve had all of your injections, and that should be all to expect from your appointment.”

Izuku shrugged and nodded to appease the tired man, and was both relieved and slightly more anxious when the dark-haired teenager with pointy ears entered and took a seat beside the tired man. “Good morning, Papa, Dad, um- Misaki-Kun,” The teenager mumbled as he slid into the seat, slumping forward into the counter edge just enough that the way his shoulders curled up and inward made him look smaller and shy.

“Good morning, Tama-Chan,” The tired man replied to his child, slinging an arm around his curled-in shoulders.

“Ready for another day of hardcore training, Dumpling?”The tall man questioned, his tone too upbeat for the morning of any day, but especially a Monday.

“No,” The teenager weakly answered. “I already wanna go home.”

If Izuku had a home, they felt as though they would find that comment relatable.

“Honey, Sweetie, you’re at home right now,” The tired man sighed, pulling the teenager into a side hug. “Don’t worry so much, Tama-Chan. Togata-Kun will be here soon, yeah? Surely that will make you feel a bit better?”

“Mm… Mirio will be here soon,” The teenager confirmed, twiddling his thumbs. “Um, yeah, I guess that makes things a bit… Better.” Just as he finished speaking, the doorbell rang, making Izuku jump in their seat. They quickly tried to make themself look less startled, hoping their flinch wasn’t noticed. “I’ll unlock the door for Mirio.” The teenager mumbled as he got out of his seat and slouched on his way to the front door.

“Here you are, Misaki-Kun,” They held back another startled flinch at being addressed and the clamor of a plate and utensils being set in front of them by the tall man. “Bacon and toast, do you want jam too? Or honey? Or something else, we’ve got lots of options!”The tall man opened a cabinet, revealing various jars and containers on the shelves. “You’re free to choose anything you want to use.”

Looking at the shelves, saw too many options, and over the years Izuku was not offered options often. It was easy for them to assume this was a way for these people to claim them greedy or something, so instead of choosing something to put on their toast, they simply looked back down, away from the cabinet, and down at the plate set in front of them.

Slowly they started tearing the toast apart into small, bite-sized pieces, unsure if they were going to put any of it in their mouth, but not wanting to draw the attention of absolutely not touching their food.

“Hey everybody! Been a long day couple of days without seeing my favorite family besides my own!”Izuku glanced over their shoulder to see an unfamiliar, tall, blond guy marching into the kitchen beside the teenager with pointy ears, who was walking with hunched-up shoulders. In comparison to the pointy-eared teenager, the new blond guy looked like the sun. “Oh my GOODNESS! There’s another one! You’ve multiplied! Oh my God, she’s tiny!”Izuku looked away when the blond's attention drew to them, they could hear the blond bounce closer. “You’re adorable! What’s your name? You can call me Mirio, I’m Tamaki’s best of best friends, which means we’ll be best friends soon enough!”

Izuku glanced up at the beaming blond from the corner of their eye but quickly looked away upon making accidental eye-contact. They slipped a bite of their toast into their mouth and began to chew, not looking back up at him.

“Togata-Kun, this is Misaki-Kun, she’s come to stay with us for a while,” The tired man told the blond teenager, Mirio. “She’s not a talker like you are.”

“Oh! Misaki! Mi-Sa-Ki-Chan! So cute!” The blond practically squealed, draping himself over the counter, and looking up at them. They didn’t look up, they didn’t want to make eye contact again. “What do you like? Do you like jokes? I’m sure I can get you to laugh!”

“Mi-Mirio…” The pointy-eared teenager, Tamaki? Stammered weakly, and from the corner of their eye, Izuku watched him grab onto the blond's arm. “Please don’t, um. Please don’t bother her.”

“I’m not trying to bother her, Tamaki! I’m befriending her!”The blond laughed.

“Hey Togata-Kun, want any bacon, eggs, toast? You know we always have enough to share!”The tall man asked Izuku could hear the sizzling of bacon being flipped on the pan.

“Ooooooh! I did already have breakfast today, but I think I ALWAYS have room for bacon!” Glancing up, Izuku could see the smile was just about as permanent on his face as it was on the tall man's. “Yes please, Toyomitsu-San!”

“On it!” Tall man cheered, and Izuku heard more movement as they slowly brought another piece of toast to their mouth.

They only felt a little bit nauseous.

“I smell bacon, Papa’s in a good mood, not that he isn’t most of the time, good morning family!” The blond Izuku had run into upstairs, Neito, chimed, strutting into the room with a flourish, gaining his parents warm welcomes. He was quick to climb into the stool to Izuku’s right. “And Mirio-Kun.” His tone of voice was a lot more flat as he tacked on those last words.

“Neito-Kun! Awww, did you miss me? I missed you!” Mirio chirped as he was offered a plate by the tall man, which he gleefully took. “Almost just as much as I missed Toyomitsu-San’s cooking! Thank you~! Just kidding though, Neito-Kun, you know I love you!”

“Uhuh.” Neito rolled his eyes, and Izuku saw it from the corner of theirs. They idly wondered what the dynamics of the household, plus the Mirio guy, were, but also knew they wouldn’t be there long, so there wasn’t any point in giving much of a damn. Neito glanced at Izuku. “Hey, Misaki-Kun, you doing ok?”

Izuku shrugged, fiddling with their next bite before slipping it into their mouth.

“Aw, I thought I’d beat Neito down here,” Glancing back, Izuku saw the purple-haired guy, Hitoshi walking into the room. “G’morning…”

“Good morning, Marshmallow!” Tall man called from the stove, a grin ever present on his face. It was starting to scare Izuku a bit, his expression barely changed at all in the hours they had been in the home. “Your toast is in the toaster, so it’ll be a minute before it’s ready.”

“Thank you, Papa,” Hitoshi responded, sliding into the free seat on Neito’s other side. The tired man reached over and patted him on the head, his mouth busy with a bite of his own toast.

“Hitoshi-Chan! Hey, Buddy, it’s been a few days, looking sleepy as usual!” Mirio joked before going back to stuffing his face with bacon, much to the pointy-eared teenager's apparent exasperation.

From there, the morning was filled with chatter and the smell of bacon overpowering any other smell. Izuku made it through a quarter of their torn-up toast and a tiny bite of their bacon before deciding they had enough and couldn't bring themself to eat anymore.

Chapter Text

“Into the car, Kids,” Shota ushered his sons and foster daughter into his van, noting the hesitation in Misaki’s body language as she slowly followed Hitoshi and Neito inside before  Shota turned his attention to Tamaki and Mirio. Reaching over, Shota gently straightened his son's tie and tidied his slightly askew shirt collar. “You’re both fine to walk to school today?”

“Dad, we wa-walk every day, we’re fine,” Tamaki sighed, to which Shota was about to protest, because that was untrue, when it rained, or when one of them was tired or injured, or they were running late, then they would often take Shota’s offer. Before he could make his argument to that statement though, Tamaki continued speaking, wrapping his arms around Shota in a hug that Shota quickly reciprocated. “We’ll be fine, Dad, you really n-need to stop worrying so much.”

Kissing his son's forehead, Shota scoffed. “As if I’d ever stop worrying about my son and his ride or die,” Squeezing Tamaki before releasing him, Shota reached over and ruffled Togata’s hair, much to his apparent enjoyment. “Now, you two don’t be late, because if you are, I’ll find out and give you garden chores to do after school.”

“Yes, Aizawa-San! We won’t let you down!” Togata grinned, giving Shota a wink as he linked his arm around one of Tamaki’s. “We’ll be so on time, that Snipe-Sensei will give us one of his joke stickers from his desk draw!” With that said, and a booming laugh, Togata began to march Shota’s son away.

“See you guys later, love you!” Shota called after them as he heard the jingling of his husband’s keys locking the front door. Turning to the sound, Shota watched Taishiro pocket his keys and start walking toward him. “Are you taking the car or the train to work, Dear?” Shota asked, taking Taishiro’s hand when he was close enough.

“The train, Pudding,” Taishiro bent down to kiss Shota on the cheek. Glancing over Shota’s shoulder as he stood back up to his full height, Taishiro squeezed Shota’s hand. “Who are you going to drop off first, Misaki-Kun, or Hitoshi and Neito?”

“I’m going to drop Misaki-Kun off first, and then I’m going to take Hito-Chan and Nei-Chan to school,” Shota told him, glancing back at the car to see Neito was in the middle seat with Hitoshi in the seat on the driver's side, while Misaki was on Neito’s other side behind the passenger seat. Misaki was only half in the car, she was sitting on the seat but swinging her legs outside of the car, head resting against the doorframe. “I figured Misaki-Kun wouldn’t want to be trapped in a space so small alone with an adult just yet. While we have a list of incidents she’s been through in the past, I’m basically 100% sure that anything listed has been somehow twisted to be her fault, and that there is a whole lot more that’s gone unwritten. Until we know, I just want to be really careful.” Shota sighed, thumping his head lightly against his husband's chest. “I really don’t want her to be scared with us.”

Taishiro’s familiar warm arms wound around him, cushioning him in a way that was so comforting and intimate, it always made him feel just a little more ok when he was hugged by his husband. “I know, Sugar, I don’t want that either, and that’s why we’ll try our best.” Pulling back enough to look down at Shota, Taishiro aimed his gorgeous smile down at him. “It’s going to be a good day, Shota.”

“You can’t know that,” Shota replied, rolling his eyes, but he smiled despite himself. “I hope so though.”

Nodding, Taishiro was about to continue before he paused and pulled out his phone. He turned it on and Shota watched his smile get a bit awkward. “Aw, shoot, I wanna kiss my husband more and coo over my beautiful kids, but I am going to miss my train, so I love you, I’ll see you soon, Beautiful,” Taishiro leaned down and pecked Shota on the lips before releasing him completely and speedwalking to the van. He slowed down when he got close to Misaki and bent enough to see all three children. “I’ll see you three after you’re done with school, ok? Does everyone have their lunchboxes? If not, they should be on the counter inside. Alright, I love you all, I have to go, have a great day!” Taishiro talked so fast that he didn’t let anyone get a word in, which was a normal occurrence in their household when someone was running late. “Misaki-Kun, once again, I’m so happy to have you here, if you have any problems at school, have the school call me or Shota, Shota will give them our contacts, and we’ll come running, alright, I really should get going, bye!” Blowing a few kisses to the kids, Taishiro began speedwalking down the street with the urgency of a child trying to find the toy section of a store.

Huffing out a soft laugh, Shota went to the car and gently ushered Misaki into her seat properly before closing the door and rounding the car to get into the driver's seat.

They had given Izuku a lunch box. Izuku didn’t think they had ever had a lunch box before. When they had tried to discretely leave it behind, Hitoshi had found it on the counter 5 minutes later and insistently pushed it into their hands, flashing a wobbly smile at them before wandering off. They put it in their backpack, but they probably wouldn’t have eaten any of it by the end of the day.

They were in the car, they had pressed themself against the door, not wanting to bother Neito by accidentally bumping him as the car moved.

Izuku hated every time the car swerved around a corner, went too fast, or drove over a pothole or speedbump in the road, it drove a nauseous feeling through them that made their head spin, and with the day still ahead of them, they felt even worse.

Shota frowned as he pulled the car to a stop outside of Misaki’s school, Aldera Elementary. The building looked old and unkept, the paint cracked and chipped all over the walls, the front gates rusted with the bars bent as though something had crashed into each one individually from a different angle each time, the grass dry, dying and flat to the dirt with not a flower in sight. The sign above the gate that was supposed to read ‘Aldera Elementary School of Musutafu’ was missing several letters and instead, read ‘A de a Elem ta y choo of Mus ta u’. Shota was not impressed, and if there wasn’t an entire process Shota and Taishiro would have to go through with Misaki’s social worker in order to get her transferred somewhere else, then Shota wouldn’t let her walk in there today, because the entire school's appearance left him on edge.

Shota would be talking to Taishiro when he was off work about talking to Misaki’s social worker because Shota believed wholeheartedly the sweet girl deserved to go to a better school, just from the overall appearance of it so far.

Hearing one of the doors into his van open, Shota blinked, tuning out of his observations to turn in his seat, seeing Misaki already half out of her seat. She froze when Shota moved though, as though she thought she had done something wrong, or to anger Shota.

Oh my God, Baby, no, I’m not mad, please don’t be scared.

“Can you lead me to the office, Misaki-Kun?” Shota asked, pulling a soft smile on his face to hide the hurt over Misaki’s obvious fear, and to show her he wasn’t mad at her. After a moment, Misaki slowly nodded and continued climbing out of the car, tugging her backpack on once she was standing in the parking lot, safely beside the van. “Thank you, Hon.” Shota looked over at his sons. “Are you boys coming too, or staying here?”

Neito looked at Hitoshi, Hitoshi looked back at him, Shota watched as they did, admiring for the hundredth time how close his two 15-year-olds were, and being slightly amused when in sync, Neito and Hitoshi both looked over to Misaki, who was standing outside of the car, glancing around the front entrance of the school while rocking on her heels, before they looked back at each other, then to Shota. “We’ll come in, Dad.”

Nodding, Shota pocketed his phone while pulling the key out of the keyway, before he opened his car door and climbed out, hearing his sons clamber out as well, sliding the door closed behind them.

Locking the door, Shota rounded the car to where the kids stood, Misaki still glancing around. Shota saw wariness in her expression, that was not a good sign.

What’s happened to her at this school, and how long has it been going on? Has anyone ever done anything to help her here?

Misaki seemed to snap out of whatever surveillance zone she had been in because she started to walk away from the parking lot, and toward the sidewalk, looking left to right before beginning to cross, Shota had to jog to catch up with her, hearing his sons doing the same not far behind him.

Upon getting across the road and in front of the school gate, where children were entering and running off to play before class, Misaki began to speedwalk. Shota, considering his legs were much longer than hers, was quickly able to catch up, walking a few steps behind her, but he could hear his sons jogging to keep up with them.

Shota watched from the corners of his eyes as kids stopped to watch Misaki, turning to their friends and gossiping, others laughing, and Shota was sure he caught a quirkist slur being called out, but Misaki didn’t react. Shota wanted to grab a hold of Misaki’s hand and guide her away from prying eyes to somewhere safe from the cruel words, but Shota wasn’t sure that was the right move so soon after meeting his foster daughter.

Just as he was about to ask Misaki if she was ok, because being called a slur, or simply being stared at could be mortifying or cry-worthy, Shota stopped himself, because Misaki took a sharp right and stopped walking, glancing up at Shota. She didn’t make eye contact through her big round glasses, but she was looking at him.

Misaki looked away from him and up at the door in front of her and Shota finally realized they had made it to the office. “Oh, thank you, Misaki-Kun. Are you going to come in with me?” Misaki instantly started slowly shaking her head, though her expression looked like she was scared Shota would be mad, despite her obvious attempts to shield her emotions from sight. “Ok, have a great day, hm? Have the school call us if you need anything , ok, Misaki-Kun? Me and Taishiro are here for you when you need us. All you have to do is say the word.”

Blinking slowly, Misaki glanced at him, but looked away, which Shota took to be her not believing Shota was telling the truth.

Oh, Sweet Baby, how I’d love to get you into therapy.

“Can you show me and Hitoshi around, Misaki-Kun?” Neito asked, stepping closer. “Waiting for Dad to be done with all the paperwork and talking would be boring since we have nothing else to do.”

Misaki looked like she wanted to say no and walk away before Hitoshi softly chimed in. “Please?”

Glancing at Shota, seemingly asking for permission, Misaki tilted her head. Shota smiled encouragingly at her. “Show them some of your favorite places hm? Go on, Kiddo.”

With an awkward and uncertain tilt of her head, eyes darting down to her beat-up red shoes, Misaki began walking again, Hitoshi and Neito following. Shota observed them as they walked away, taking in their height differences and the differences in the way they were walking.

One day, hopefully, should all go well, that girl will be their little sister.

Shota could imagine a future of his sons loving their little sister dearly, protecting her as much as the world would allow, and teaching her all sorts of new things. He and Taishiro would watch them interact while holding hands and smiling, completely content to watch and to have their children happy and healthy under their roof.

After a moment, Shota stopped imagining that possible future and made his way through the glass doors to the school's reception and office with purpose, ready to get his foster child’s contacts updated.

The scent of cigarette smoke stained the room like an ever-present signature of this not being a healthy learning environment, the fraying old carpet on the floor, and the peeling paint and wallpaper on the walls only made his assumption more pronounced. The woman seated behind the receptionist’s desk was an almost sickly slim figure, who looked ghostly with how much her bones stuck out, was on her phone, an unlit cigarette tucked behind her ear, and a lighter in her right hand. In her left hand, the receptionist held her cell phone, she was staring at it intently, and hadn’t picked up on Shota’s presence, too busy typing.

After a moment of watching the woman not even spare a glance away from her phone, Shota stepped closer to the desk and cleared his throat. With a jolt, the woman lost her grip on her phone, having to scramble to keep it from dropping to the floor and instead in her hands, her eyes, bloodshot in a way that was unnatural and possibly quirk-related, snapped up to narrow on Shota, her cracked lips pursing in displeasure.

“I’m here to update my foster daughter’s information, I want to make sure me or my husband are contacted if our kid needs us,” Shota drawled, absently tapping his foot, creating a soft pattern beneath him that met his ears. “Am I able to get that done today?”

“Oh, yes, what’s her name?” Her tone was honeyed, her eyes not showing even a hint of the kindness her voice was trying to convey, her fingers poised over her keyboard to begin typing.

“Misaki Midoriya,” Shota stated and instantly grew agitated at the pure displeasure and cruelty that stretched across the receptionist’s face.

“Tsk, you got her, huh? Real pain that one,” The woman scoffed, typing the name in with the obnoxious sound of her nails clacking against the keys accompanying the words. “Always bothering someone, if it isn’t a student, then it’s a teacher. God, that girl is annoying as hell, I feel sorry for you.”

“She’s actually a delight,” Shota told her, keeping his voice steady despite his rage at the unkind words this grown woman was spitting about an adorable child who doesn’t look like she’s ever done anything wrong in her life. “Very quiet so far, and hasn’t caused any problems.”

“It’s totally an act,” She exclaimed matter-of-factly, examining her unnaturally long and spindly nails. “Won’t be long before the damn Null causes issues.”

Feeling that ice-cold feeling stun him still, that cursed word looped through his mind. Then the ice vanished, replaced instantly by blinding hot lava that left his entire body burning with fury.

Taking a few deep breaths, Shota sharply set the conversation back on track, wondering to himself how soon they could get Misaki out of the school. It was possible she would have to complete the elementary year at Aldera though, seeing as there were only a few months left of classes.

Aldera Elementary was giving Hitoshi a bad vibe.

Maybe it was the lack of care in the gardens or the rusting fences, or maybe it was all the eyes full of remorselessness that narrowed in on Misaki, and by extension Hitoshi and Neito, or all of the above, or maybe it was just the overall aura of the place.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Neito giving the children scowls every few seconds before looking away from them with a clear expression, probably for if Misaki turned and saw him, it was very clear to Hitoshi that absolutely no one in his family wanted to scare her, especially not by making some slight mistake.

Hitoshi had the passing thought that a 15-year-old probably shouldn’t be scaring children, but considering how mean the kids seemed, he didn’t act on the thought to tell Neito to stop.

Misaki didn’t seem to be leading them anywhere in particular and instead was seemingly just wandering around the building. Maybe she didn’t have any favorite places at school, which he thought was valid, considering how sketchy the place was.

“DEKU!” The word rang out like thunder on a quiet night, and it seemed to be a trigger for Misaki to run because she began to sprint. Confused, Hitoshi began to follow, speeding up his pace, and he looked back to see a spikey-haired blond kid charging toward them, more likely toward Misaki , with heavy steps and a sharp scowl on his face.

Beside him, Hitoshi heard Neito let out a soft sound of irritation, it was a hissing-through-his-teeth sound that Hitoshi was familiar with. Both of them had been bullied over the years, and Neito wasn’t one to tolerate it happening to people he cared about. If Neito was bullying the bully though, that was a different story. Neito was running beside him, they were trying to keep up with Misaki, who was beginning to climb a tree for whatever reason.

“Quit running you fucking coward!”Hitoshi stumbled as he was shoved by the spikey blond kid, he tumbled into the wall of the school.

Neito stopped to help Hitoshi, concern and anger in his eyes. “Otouto, you ok?” He questioned, looking him over with quick glances in Misaki’s direction to make sure she was ok too.

“I’m ok, my arm might bruise a little though,” He rubbed the arm he had landed against the wall, giving Neito a light smile, before looking toward the tree Misaki was making her way up and the blond kid was approaching. “Um- you try to de-escalate while I call Dad?” Hitoshi suggested, to which Neito swiftly agreed too and began to walk away, though Hitoshi wasn’t sure he was actually going to deescalate anything, going off the almost threatening grin on his face.

Just as Shota started to exit the school’s office, firmly aggravated and ready to report the school to Nezu, his phone began to ring with Hitoshi’s ringtone playing. Quickly, because something could have happened to one or all of his children, Shota grabbed his phone from his pocket and brought it to his ear, answering the call. “Hitoshi? What’s going on, Hito-Chan?” He asked urgently.

“Dad, there- Um, there’s a kid with spikey hair that’s- Ah, chasing Misaki-Kun, and now Misaki-Kun is climbing up a tree,” Hitoshi told him while sounding upset, Shota quickly made his way out of the office at the first stutter in Hitoshi’s words. “I got shoved into a wall a little bit, I’m fine, and Neito’s… Well I told him to de-escalate, but remembered too late I was talking to Neito…”

“Whereabouts are you, Hito-Chan?” Shota asked, already beginning to look around at any of the nearby trees and spikey-haired children, listening out for any yelling, but it was hard, considering there were at least 100 children outside.

“On the… Right side of the school, Dad, Misaki-Kun was kinda just wandering around before the kid started chasing her.” Hitoshi replied, anxiety leaking into his voice.

“Ok, Kiddo, I’ll be there real soon, ok? Is Misaki-Kun still ok?” Shota began running, dodging children to get around to the side of the school.

“She’s in the tree, she um. She keeps climbing higher when the spikey kid yells,” Hitoshi answered softly as Shota just about knocked over a young child. “He’s starting to climb the tree too, and Neito keeps distracting him. I think- um. Neito might be taunting him.”

"Alright, Hito-Chan, I can see you now, I’m coming,” Shota huffed, running across the dry grass to reach his children. He watched Hitoshi turn and see him, and hung up their call, pocketing his phone, watching Hitoshi’s body language become calmer, more relaxed. When he made it to Hitoshi, he paused, looking him over for injuries and dusting off his uniform. “You’re sure you’re ok?”

“Mhm, I’m o-ok, but Misaki-Kun is getting pretty um- high on that tree,” Hitoshi said, pointing over and up at a tree further down the dead grass path.

“Right, I’m going to deal with this,” Shota’s eyes narrowed in on the child who seemed about Misaki’s age climbing up the tree with an angry demeanor. Neito was standing at the foot of the tree with his signature ‘I’m intending to piss you off’ grin on his face.

Shota quickly jogged over to them, not liking this kid already.

“Oi! What’re you doing?” Shota called out as he neared the base of the tree, and watched Neito spin on his heels to look at him, a smug little grin tugging at his lips as he registered who he was. The 10-year-old with spikey hair paused where he was crouched in the lower branches of the tree, red eyes squinting at Shota in what seemed like disgust and agitation, perhaps at Shota’s appearance and the continuous interruptions to his unknown plans. “Shouldn’t you be getting to class, Kid?”

Clicking his tongue, the kid rolled his eyes, mocking Shota with his hands miming the act of speaking. “Shouldn’t you be in a rest home, old man? Or better yet, on a park bench, seeing as you fit the description of a homeless guy so well.” He snarked, and his insults weren’t all that offensive, at least the ‘homeless guy’ comment wasn’t, though the ‘rest home’ comment on the other hand was a little offensive, considering he was only 29.

“Come on, get to class, surely the bell will ring any minute,” Shota said, choosing not to comment on the rude words.

The glare on the kid's face sharpened, his teeth bared and suddenly, positioning his hand in an almost claw-like way, he began to let off sparks. “Don’t tell me what to do, old man!” He growled, almost as though he was insulted by suggestions and instructions.

With a sigh, Shota closed his eyes, and then he opened them, with a red-eyed glare he shut off the boy’s quirk, not even a small amount amused with the child’s attempt at intimidation. “Cut it out, Kid.”

The spiky-haired kid tried to use his quirk, and he kept trying, but seeing as Shota had yet to blink, his quirk was still active, keeping the angry kid from letting out a single spark. The kid became increasingly panicked, frustrated, confused, and embarrassed the longer he tried to activate his quirk and the more he failed.

With a scowl on his face, the kid climbed out of the tree, glaring at Shota suspiciously before sending a glare up the tree and stomping away swiftly, shaking his hands out as though trying to gain back the feeling of his quirk.

It was only when the angry kid made it out of view that Shota released his quirk, blinking rapidly as he grabbed his eyedrops the soothe the burning dryness of his overworked eyes.

“I don’t like that dude, he’s annoying,” Neito scoffed, crossing his arms while shaking his head. “He scared Misaki-Kun away and shoved Hitoshi into the wall. Not cool.”

Patting his son on the shoulder, Shota sighed again, nodding in silent agreement before he tilted his head back to see how far he would have to climb in order to make sure Misaki was ok.

It was a very tall tree, Shota was surprised a tree that tall was on the ground of a school, and even more surprised that it seemed to be thriving despite all of the dying flora below it. Misaki had just about made it to the very top of it, but seemed to have stopped climbing somewhere just shy of the top few branches.

It was a good thing that Shota was good at climbing, and that he climbed regularly, otherwise, he wasn’t sure how he’d get Misaki down.

It was instinct. 

To run, to hide to climb, to crawl, to jump, to swim, anything to escape Katsuki and the burn marks that he liked to give them like a never-ending promise of pain.

If it wasn’t the burn marks they were running from, then it was his words. Izuku didn’t like his words, because they hurt, and a few years back, before quirks became so important to anyone their age, Katsuki’s words didn’t hurt. They were nice and directed at Izuku, and it was the only smidge of kindness that they remembered having.

Katsuki was the only thing, the only person that remained stationary in Izuku’s life. Everyone else, and every thing else seemed to leave them or disappear. Even their social worker had switched a few different times.

So Katsuki’s words, which over the years had grown unkind, did affect Izuku. They ran from the words, terrified of how far the words would go next time they were aimed at them.

“Misaki-Kun,” They almost cringed at being called Misaki this time, Izuku hadn’t realized they were feeling so dysphoric until then. Blinking, they realized the tired man had followed Izuku up the tree, and that was who was talking to them. “Hey, Sweetie, are you alright?”

It took a moment before Izuku remembered to respond, though their response was nothing more than a shrug. They were fine, at least they thought they might have been.

“Ok, do you want to climb down from the tree, Misaki-Kun? The spiky-haired kid’s gone now,” The man coaxed, and internally Izuku debated about whether or not to climb down from the branch they were perched on. Climbing down meant going to class, and being subjected to quirked target practice as the target during PE. Staying in the tree meant the receptionist calling either their foster parents or their social worker with a thick layer of glee disguised as disappointment at Izuku for skipping school. A call to the social worker or foster parents almost always meant getting moved to another foster home.

Staying in the tree after being asked by one of their foster fathers to climb down also meant getting in trouble.

Softly, they sighed and shifted so they could start climbing down the tree. Before they could start clambering down to the branch beneath their dangling feet, they felt something loop around their waist and stiffened, bowing their head to see a gray loop of fabric firmly wrapped around them. “Sorry, if that scared you, Honey, this is my capture weapon, I use it for a multitude of reasons, but right now I’m using it to make sure your descent to the ground is safe, is that ok?”

Nodding, because arguing with a foster parent was a no-no, they continued their way down the tree, hearing the tired man follow at a slower pace.

Chapter Text

Shota did not regret asking at least 7 times if Misaki was really ok with being left at that school before hesitantly leaving her there, even if it came off as a little pushy of him to ask so much. He almost immediately after dropping Hitoshi and Neito off at school and making it to UA, he went to Nezu to talk about the destruction of Aldera Elementary.

It didn’t take even a minute to convince Nezu to sink his claws into researching the elementary school. He took children's education and care incredibly serious, and he did not stand by when a kid was being treated unfairly in a school environment, especially when if one kid was getting mistreated, it was likely there were several others, possibly for a similar series of reasons.

Sitting at his desk in the teacher's lounge, Shota sighed as he finished grading his law and ethics students papers, and pulled out Misaki’s file that the social worker had left with them.

He wanted to have a look through their past incidents list, the reasons for why they left some of their past foster homes, and try to piece together what probably had actually happened. Of course, there was always the slight possibility that Misaki-Kun had actually done some of the things the papers accused her of, but with what Shota had observed of her personality and behavior so far, Shota found it unlikely, especially with the way the quirkless community was treated in current, Japanese times, which was terrible. Shota had read somewhere that in Australia, New Zealand, Fiji, and a few other countries toward the south of the Earth, quirkless people were for the most part treated with less discrimination and hate.

Shota wanted an idea of some of the trauma the girl had been through so that he and Taishiro had a few guidelines in order to help their foster daughter in the ways that would work best for her.

Flipping through the pages, Shota stopped at the incident section, which seemed to take up at least a third of the file.

Incident one: “Kept picking fights with the other foster children in the house.” Misaki was more likely being bullied.

Incident two: “Misbehaved and refused to follow house rules.” Hm, I’m not sure what could’ve happened there. Maybe the house rules were over the top? Or she could’ve made a couple mistakes?

Incident three: “Kept scaring the other kids.” That’s very vague…

Incident Four: “Refused to listen to any instructions her foster parents gave her.” Exaggeration? Requests that made her uncomfortable maybe?

There were multiple reports with similar comments about picking fights, making trouble, and even a couple more about Misaki being scary. All Shota could read from between the lines was that Misaki was being bullied by other foster kids and foster parents.

Misaki had also lived in a few group homes and an orphanage, but had been moved from each of them with the report that she was “Aggressive with the other kids and the caretakers.” Shota assumed it was the other way around.

Incident 23: “Seduced her foster father, and denied doing it to her foster mother.”..... What the fuck.  

Shota felt sick at the implications, the thoughts of what most likely had actually happened. He mentally noted to tell Taishiro not to touch her, he would hate for either of them to scare the poor lamb. At the time that report was filed, it said Misaki was seven years old. Shota felt even more nauseous.

He had to take a moment to recollect himself, taking a long sip of his long-gone cold coffee and closing his aching eyes. The horrific ideas of what had possibly happened to the poor girl made Shota furious and upset, he felt his parental instinct to protect and comfort flare up.

The door to the teacher's lounge opened, distracting Shota faintly from his intense desire to collect his children, swaddle them each in his softest blankets, keep them somewhere safe and cozy, and smother them with love and affection. “Puddin’ I brought you lunch!” His husband exclaimed, entering the teacher's lounge with a large paper bag in hand. Sometimes when Taishiro was on his lunch break, he came all the way to UA just to see Shota and have lunch with him, because he was perfect, and lovely, and the human embodiment of sunshine.

“Thank you, Taishi-Chan,” Shota hummed, standing from his seat and wandering over to him to lean heavily into his soft chest, sighing heavily in contentment and happiness that his husband was there, the haunting thoughts spawned from that one report still digging at his imagination, amygdala, and his parental instincts. “I’ve been looking through Misaki-Kun’s incident papers, trying to read between the lines of what actually could have happened.”

“You have?” Taishiro murmured, wrapping his arms around Shota’s shoulders. “What do you think has happened to the little one from what you’ve read, Shota?”

“Most of it, I can assume she’s been bullied and mistreated by foster siblings and foster parents,” Shota answered, a frown tugging at his lips. He leaned more into his husband. “And… I just read one that accused Misaki-Kun of… Seducing her foster father when she was seven .”

Taishiro tensed beneath him. “She-..... Oh God, I don’t even want to think of what that horrid man possibly did to her, if he did anything.” He breathed out, his arms tightening around Shota. “Oh, that poor girl…”

Shota nodded. “Yeah…” Looking up at his husband, Shota sighed. “So, we don’t even lay a finger on her, Taishi-Chan, not until we know if she’s comfortable with physical contact.”

“Of course, Shota,” Taishiro replied, his expression serious. “God, I really hope she isn’t super uncomfortable with us being men.”

Silently, Shota nodded his agreement, burying his face in his husband's chest.

They stood like that for what felt like hours but were really only a few minutes. “Let’s eat lunch, Shota,” Taishiro said softly, his voice significantly more downcast than his usual speaking voice.

“Yeah, ok,” Shota agreed softly and pulled away from Taishiro. He wasn’t sure how much he could eat after that sickening revelation though.

After “Incident 23” on the list, Shota, with his husband as they ate lunch, continued going through the incident reports. Unfortunately, when they got to incident 42, they came across a similar report, that was equally nauseating and infuriating.

Incident 42: “Misaki Midoriya was found in her bedroom, acting inappropriately for her age with her older foster brother, seducing him into her bed.”

Misaki was NINE  when that report was filed.

There was not a single millimeter of Shota that believed the shy little girl who had moved into his house the previous day, had done anything to “Seduce” anyone, because she was nine , and bless her heart, she was quiet as a mouse and just as twitchy as one too.

His husband, his sunshine, his smiley, bright, beaming man, full of love and the urge to cuddle anyone even remotely hurt in any way, had been enraged. His expression twisted in a dark way that Shota had only seen so few times before, his fury radiated off of him, and Shota could practically imagine his enragement wilting any nearby flora, that’s how mad, his sexy, beloved husband was. He told Shota he was going to find out whoever it was that sent in those reports, and he was going to go to their houses and arrest them, and if the arrests didn’t stick, because of bail, and stupid quirkists, he was going to meet them in a dark alley and show them why not to mess with little kids who shouldn’t have ever had to worry about a thing.

Shota had made him sit down and kissed his forehead, still horrified himself at the general idea he was getting from those reports of what happened. He had climbed onto his husband's lap and cuddled into him, squeezing him tight, Shota needed the comfort, and so did Taishiro. It felt silly how quickly he got attached to kids, traumatized kids he only wanted the best for, but Shota wouldn’t ever regret his quickly formed attachments to the children. In their lines of work, they came across a plethora of children of the years, and some of them still tugged at Shota’s mind sometimes, the other kids they had fostered but weren’t a fit for their family sometimes came to mind too, because he hoped they were all doing well, that they got the lives they all deserved, and were happy.

Misaki, even if she wasn’t to stay with them for years to come, Shota believed he would always worry for her now. He was sure Taishiro was the same.

Izuku did not like to be touched by their classmates. Their classmates' touches always hurt, something as small as a shove or push, or nails extending to dig into their skin so deep they almost touch the bone, or explosions that send searing pain of impossible heat into their body through their clothes.

Teachers hit their hands with rulers and gripped their shoulders real tight, so Izuku didn’t like teachers touching them either.

They didn’t like foster siblings touching them, they were often like their classmates when it came to touching.

They didn’t like it when foster parents touched them either, their hands were rough and could incircle their entire wrist or bicep, or neck if they preferred.

Sometimes they thought of the other reasons they didn’t like foster siblings or foster parents touching them, but they didn’t like to, it made them feel ill and made it hard for them to breathe.

They were used to getting dragged around by their social worker, his touch was rough too. They hated it.

Izuku supposed that maybe they didn’t like to be touched at all, but they weren’t sure, because they had never been touched in a way that didn’t hurt. At least not within the times that Izuku could remember.

It was easy for them to assume that no human would ever touch them kindly though, so they settled for stray cat cuddles instead. Cats were nicer than humans anyway. Even if sometimes they scratched or clawed, or their fur made them sneeze occasionally.

Izuku was locked in the janitor closet, again, after being shoved around for a while. So they really wished they had a cat at that moment .

Chapter Text

Hitoshi was walking out of his final class for the day with Neito to his left when his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw it was his Dad’s number. He was quick to answer when he noticed that. “Dad?”

“Hey, Hito-Chan, how was your day at school, Baby?” His Dad asked, sounding as though he was driving, most likely on his way to pick either him and Neito, or Misaki up. Neito had quietened at the sound of him talking into the phone and leaned in close to hear.

Snoop.

“It was ok, Dad,” Hitoshi answered, not particularly wanting to go into the day's details, like which class sucked the most and what class he was apparently doing well in, for the moment, instead he changed the subject. “Are you coming to pick me and Neito-Nii up?”

“I am, Kiddo, I hope you don’t mind coming with me to Misaki-Kun’s school again, I just don’t want her to feel uncomfortable in a car alone with me,” Dad sighed into the phone. There was traffic noise in the background, loud enough for Hitoshi to hear. “After picking her up we’ll all be going back to UA because I’m taking Misaki-Kun to see Chiyo.”

Sharing a glance with his eavesdropping brother, Hitoshi nodded to himself. “Ok, sure, we don’t mind. Will you be here soon?” There was a car horn going off through the phone, and Hitoshi heard Dad honk back.

“Yeah, I’ll be there soon, Hito-Chan,” Hitoshi could practically hear his father running a red light because, at times, he could be a terrible driver. “I love you, Kid, and I love you Nei-Chan!” Dad yelled through the phone for Neito to hear, as though he knew Neito was listening in.

Of course, he knew, because Neito was a stalker.

With that, Dad hung up the phone, cutting off the sound of another car horn going off.

Hitoshi went with Neito to the side of the school to wait for their Dad as they always did, since that was where their Dad liked to pick them up from, seeing as children didn’t pour out of that exit like they did through the front gates.

It couldn’t have been anywhere close to five minutes past by the time their Dad arrived for them, waving through the passenger window with a smile on his face, as though he was relieved to see them. The relief in his expression worried Hitoshi because usually that meant he had a hard day at work, or something had happened to Papa, Tamaki, or even Dad. Now it could also be about Misaki.

After climbing into the van, Dad turned in his seat to smile at them. “Hey guys, buckle up, we’re headed to Aldera,” He told them before turning back around and beginning to back out of the parking spot he’d taken.

“Are you alright, Dad?” Neito asked after they made it into busier streets before Hitoshi could ask the question himself.

“Yeah, I’m alright, um,” He sighed, a sound heavy and weary. “Me and your Papa just learned some pretty weighty information today, which I can’t share with you for privacy reasons, I’m sorry, but I promise I’m ok.” Dad tried to assure them, honest as he always tried to be to the best of his abilities. Neither Dad nor Papa enjoyed lying to them, and Hitoshi and his brothers all appreciated that there were very few and far between lies within their household.

“Ok, Dad,” Neito replied, his voice as understanding as Hitoshi felt.

They didn’t know what time it was or how long they had been in the closet. They had heard bells ring for the end of lunch, and the end of the entire school day, but time always seemed to blend and mash together into one big blur of unescapable thought and darkness.

Izuku wished that they were in a bed, in a locked room, underneath snow-fluffy blankets, but they weren’t. They were on the floor of a janitor's closet that was filled with dust and likely hadn’t been cleaned since the school was built almost 200 years ago.

Shota couldn’t see Misaki waiting anywhere to be picked up. He had driven around the school a few times, thinking maybe in a couple minutes she would have made it to where they had agreed he would pick her up from, or that maybe she had mistaken the right from the left side of the school, but he couldn’t see her anywhere, not even after the children leaving the school wore thin.

So he finally parked the car on the right side of the school and waited for a few minutes, anxiety beginning to gnaw at him, because he had no way of directly contacting Miaki like he did his sons, and with the horrific information Shota had learned earlier in the day, seeing his foster daughter, safe and with him and his family would relax his uneasy soul.

He was good at patience when it came to his job, and most of the time during conversations with his family, but he wasn’t patient if he didn’t know where his husband or kids were, or if they were ok, so a minute later, Shota climbed out of the car, hearing Neito and Hitoshi follow him like his little ducklings.

He checked around the right side entrance, finding Misaki nowhere to be seen before making his way toward the front gate. A few children were still playing within the gate, and others were being picked up by their parents but Misaki was not in sight.

He was getting worried. Shota entered the school, quickly walking down the path with searching eyes, looking for green curls pulled back in a loose ponytail, and bright red, beat-up sneakers, and finding her still out of sight. His sons were following him, and he could hear them begin to murmur between each other with anxiety that didn’t quite mirror Shota’s own, because despite their traumas they had yet to see and experience many great terrors of life, and they had not read the clips of horror stories in Misaki’s file, that was still, and forever would be, fresh in Shota’s mind.

Shota started leading his kids around the school buildings, not entering with some little hope of finding Misaki outside somewhere instead of inside the school, where he had yet to venture.

His speedwalk around the school resulted in him confiscating a packet of cigarettes from a kid and their friends, who couldn’t be older than Misaki was. Misaki was not outside of the school anywhere.

So, without hesitation, he walked into the school, walking fast and searching high and low through the hallways and in every classroom, ignoring the looks of teachers unfamiliar with him, and the children still lingering in the halls. His sons were calling Misaki’s name gently every time they came across a new room, and drooping in disappointment when they didn’t find her.

Eventually, Shota narrowed in on a door with a chair locking the door in place and he ran for it, pleading to himself that his new baby girl had not been locked in what seemed to be a supply closet and not a classroom, for possibly the better part of the day.

Removing the chair he set it aside, his sons making it to his side as he grabbed the door handle and turned it, pulling the door open.

There, Misaki was curled up in the corner of the janitor closet, uniform dust-smudged, and face a bit lost as she took in the sudden source of light. Sinking to his knees in front of her, reeling in his relief and fury tightly, Shota looked his foster daughter over, eyes narrowing as he noticed red marks, forming bruises and small cuts littered on what was exposed of her skin. He took a deep breath and smoothed his expression, not wanting to scare Misaki. 

Before he could say anything, Hitoshi beat him to it. “Misaki-Kun, are you ok?” He asked, concern leaking heavily into his stammered words. Hitoshi too had been put in closets during his school years before Shota and Taishiro got involved.

Misaki nodded as though her skin wasn’t marked, and like Shota hadn’t just unlocked the closet she had been trapped in for who knows how long.

“Misaki-Kun, how long have you been in here, hm?” Shota asked gently, standing back up and offering Misaki a hand, which she didn’t take, instead pulling her backpack on and climbing to her feet on her own.

She seemed to think for a moment as she stepped out of the closet, Shota following closely, watching out for any slight limps or wobbles, ready to keep her from falling at short notice. Misaki slowly shrugged, and Shota realized there was likely no clock in the closet, Misaki didn’t have a watch he knew of, or a phone to tell the time off of.

“Were you in there for hours, Misaki-Kun?” Neito questioned softly, the girl nodded and Neito pulled his phone out. “Ok, Misaki, it’s 3:39 PM right now, how many hours would you say you were in there for?”

Misaki fiddled with her bag straps as she thought, staring down at the ground before she held up two fingers, then she changed her mind, shaking her head and holding up three fingers.

Shota was furious. He hadn’t known Misaki for all that long, but she was being done some great injustice. “Right, we’ll go to the principal about this matter-” Misaki was already shaking her head, pace rapid and eyes more expressive than he had seen them since they met. They were wide with something like fear, an awful thing for a child to feel in reference to getting help. Crouching down, he spoke gently. “Misaki-Kun, if I don’t talk to your principal, nothing will be done,” A part of him angrily doubted anything would be done either way, but the first step to getting Misaki transferred out was reporting a problem to the school and then communicating with her social worker about the problem. The darling little girl kept shaking her head, her eyes now scrunched closed. “Please, Sweetheart?”

“Misaki-Kun,” Neito hummed, leaning down to Misaki's eye level. “You know, our dads are superheroes, ” He whispered conspiratorially, a bit of mischief tinging his smirk, saying ‘superheroes’ as though he and Taishiro weren’t licensed pro heroes, and instead were playing pretend. “They want to keep us safe, so even if it’s a little scary right now, it would be very good of you to let them save you. That’d make them super happy.”

Misaki directed her gaze downward, scuffing her shoes against the old wooden flooring of the hall floor and hands fidgeting in front of her, clearly thinking over her options. Slowly nodding, Misaki ducked her head and started walking down the hall, toward the front office, shoulders taut with resignation.

Shota followed her, his sons following him, he didn’t say anything, not wanting to overwhelm Misaki by saying any more.

Chapter Text

“I’d like to speak with the principal. Right now, please.” Neito directed his attention to Misaki as their dad spoke with the frankly, lazy, receptionist behind the desk. Misaki had her head down, and another glance toward the receptionist told him it had a little something to do with the glare she was being dealt.

As the receptionist began to monotone-ly argue with Dad, Neito crouched in front of Misaki, noticing but not taking it to heart when she looked away from him. “Hey, Misaki-Kun, after we’re done here, we’re headed to UA, remember? For your doctor's appointment?” She nodded slightly in response. “Well, when we’re there, how about I show you where Dad keeps his jelly packets? Most of them are strawberry flavor, but if you prefer other flavors there’s a lot of other flavors to choose from.”

Misaki fidgetted a bit before awkwardly nodding. She looked so shy all the time.

Smiling, he stood back up, offering her his hand for comfort should she want it. The girl stared at his hand with an expression void of emotion, but her eyes were full of fear, and suddenly, Neito felt immensely guilty. She shakily took his hand, and he felt even worse because she might have just taken his silent offer as pressure or a demand. He gently held her little hand, rubbing her hand with feather-light touches. Through his quirk, he could feel her lack of quirk factor.

He stopped looking at her, not wanting to make her feel anxious from his gaze, he could already feel the way her hand trembled in his. Neito looked to Hitoshi on his other side, finding he was frowning in concern at the way Misaki was beginning to full body shake. ‘What do we do?’ Hitoshi mouthed, and Neito shook his head, not knowing the answer.

Just as he was really considering punching the cigarette-smoking, rude, and unkind lady behind the desk, the principal's office door swung open, and a round, balding man, who smelled heavily of cheap cologne and beer, so heavy that Shota could smell it well even with the distance between them. The fact that three of his children were in such close proximity to people who smelled heavily of bad habits and exuded arrogance and quirkism just with their eyes and the posture of their backs made his protective paternal instinct, which was already resting high, flare with upset.

“What might the problem here be?” The man boomed as he waddled further into the room, his expression souring when he caught sight of Misaki, who was trembling like a newborn fawn with Neito holding her hand.

“I have an issue to discuss with you, and no it will not wait, we will talk now,” Shota demanded, deciding that it would happen right then and refusing to let it be pushed aside for another day that might arise too late or never. As the man stammered, face fushia with fluster, he gathered his three children and guided them toward the office, a gentle hand on Hitoshi’s tense shoulder and a pat against Neito’s perfectly postured back.

He ushered his children onto the false leather couch against the wall, watching to ensure they all sit down, which they did, Neito and Hitoshi bracketing Misaki between them before he positioned himself to be towering over the principal's desk, waiting with a pointed look for the man to stumble to his seat.

“Uh- What can I help you with…” The man was clearly lost for a name to call him. Shota let him stand there and stammer in discomfort and cluelessness for a moment before deciding to get take infinitesimal pity on the man.

“Aizawa,” He spat, not offering any more to his name. “Now, my foster daughter was locked in a storage closet for three hours, and I would like to know why I wasn’t called when the teachers found she was not present in class? She was also clearly shoved around as well, so what discipline will her aggressors face?” At the blatant outrage, Shota dispensed, the principal blanched.

“Wh-” He began to stutter once more before his gaze drifted behind Shota, toward his children , toward Misaki, and his expression cleared with a strange mix of annoyance and relief. “Ah, you just came in here to put up a fuss about your new little pet so that everyone thinks you actually care about it-”

Pure, sharp, unfiltered fury, filled his very being, and his quirk flickered to life with a burning red glare full of bloodlust for the baby girl who knew not a moment of peace apparently, who was now his to love and protect. He didn’t have to look behind him to know his sons' faces were horrified at the principal's audacity to accuse their father of putting on an act of love and care towards a child who most certainly deserved the sun itself.

Shota didn’t want to know what look was on Misaki’s face, because if her face changed with sadness or anger, his heart would break further for her, but should her expression not change at all, he would feel miserable for her because that would mean she had heard such words far too often.

10 years old. She was only 10.

So young, too young.

His quirk-fueled glare flared harder, and a growl ripped from his throat as he opened his mouth to unleash the full extent of his outrage on the man who was staring up at him with fear.

Dad spat words of pure, acidic venom, and Hitoshi was once more in awe of the fact this was his Dad. His Dad protected his children with anger as bright as fire lit on the darkest nights.

Hitoshi looked at Misaki, she was staring down at her lap as she trembled with an absent look in her eyes, like she was so used to being insulted that she couldn’t be bothered to listen anymore, probably not even hearing the words in her defense. Neito was still holding her hand.

Eyeing his foster sister, Hitoshi spotted a small laceration on her neck that had yet to clot and had tiny beads of blood sitting just where the skin had split.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out disinfectant wipes and colorful bandaids. It was a habit to carry them around. Standing from his seat, idly listening as his Dad verbally tore the man’s ego to shreds, Hitoshi crouched in front of Misaki, and with slow, nonthreatening movements, he began to dab the little cuts with a wipe. She flinched, her eyes clearing. Misaki was looking at him with her forest green eyes through the cracked lenses of her glasses. 

“Shhh, I’m sorry,” Hitoshi crooned beneath his breath. “I’m cl-cleaning your cuts, M-Misaki. You’re ok.” He soothed softly, beginning to clean the wounds again with even slower and gentler movements.

Misaki still trembled.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’ll stop touching you in a second, shhh, shh,” Hitoshi shushed gently, opening his box of bandaids. He held it open for Misaki to see inside. “What co-color? Pink, blue, yellow, or purple?” He questioned softly, hearing his Dad let out a particularly wicked threat with a series of curse words strung into it. Misaki stared at her color options before slowly pointing to a purple one. “Good ch-choice, Mis-saki.” He praised, slowly slipping it into place over the newly cleaned cut. “There you go, all done.”

The girl silently nodded, and she continued to shake, Hitoshi looked to Neito, who glanced back before focusing on Misaki again. Neito lifted his and Misaki’s joined hands, which made Misaki’s gaze snap to him. “Misaki-San,” He whispered, voice gentle in a way reserved for those Neito considered deserving. “What do you need right now? Can you tell me please?”

Misaki stared up at him helplessly, and Hitoshi was scared that she had never been asked that question.

Neito nodded at her silence and stillness. “Ok, that’s ok,” His big brother soothed, and Hitoshi aspired to be as calming of a presence as he was, one day, for the scared children he was sure to meet as a hero. “Here,” Neito went on his phone for a moment before slipping it between Misaki’s hands, finally releasing her. “Let’s watch this.” He had put funny cat videos on the screen to distract Misaki.

Slowly, the little girl nodded, glancing between them, and shyly toward Dad and the principal before her gaze hesitantly slid back down to the phone placed in her delicate little hands. Hitoshi couldn’t get over how small she was, in his house of giants, tall and strong, it was unheard of to be so dainty, at least not for long with Papa around.

With a final threat, by threat he meant promise, to get Nezu involved, Shota ushered his kids out of the office. He swore to the principal that if no one was punished for what happened to the poor girl in his care, he would rent a wrecking ball himself and knock the school down until it was nothing but wreckage.

His sons had been looking after Misaki throughout the whole impromptu meeting, and by the time it was time to go, Shota had turned around to find Misaki holding Neito’s phone with his sons huddled close, but not close enough to touch, to watch cat videos. Misaki’s feet were kicking slowly as she watched whatever cats were on screen.

Adorable.

As he steered his children out of the office, still angry with the disrespect Misaki garnered for no reason beyond her quirklessness, he forced himself to calm down, because there was no way in hell that he wanted to scare Misaki more than she probably already was.

Shota also realized they were late to their appointment with Chiyo, so he quickly flicked her a text with a short explanation and a promise that he was on his way with the kids.

Chapter Text

Shyly, Izuku followed when their foster family started leading them from the parking lot to UA High School, which apparently the tired man worked at, and Tamaki went to. They knew of the school, but not much other than a lot of heroes went there when they were in school.

They kept their head down, arms crossed around themself and hands curled into their waist tightly. They tried their best to keep up but not walk too close to anyone.

“Chiyo should be waiting for us upstairs. Do you boys want to head to the teacher's lounge? Tama-Chan should be there already.” The tired man asked, the question directed toward Monoma and Shinso.

“Yeah, I think we’ll head up there,” Monoma chimed, from the edge of their sight, Izuku could see Shinso nod in agreement. “Is Papa still working?”

“I’m not sure, he’s either at work, or here, or finishing work and on his way here.” The tired man replied. He said something after, but Izuku tuned the conversation out, trying not to focus on the face they were heading toward a doctor's office.

Shota led Misaki toward the infirmary, his sons having split away from them once inside the building. He slowed his pace every time it seemed Misaki was lagging behind him, and he wanted to offer comfort when he saw she was curling in on herself, glancing around from the corners of her eyes as she kept her head down, but he didn’t think it would be appreciated at the moment, so he settled for keeping an eye on her.

When they finally made it to the infirmary, Shota gave the door a firm knock before sliding it open, gently ushering Misaki inside. Looking up, he could see Chiyo was ready for them, and that Taishiro was inside talking to her excitedly, probably about how overjoyed he was to have another baby to look after.

“We’re here,” Shota announced, cutting through his husband's beautiful overjoyment. Taishiro and Chiyo turned to look at him, expressions gentle. Glancing down at Misaki, Shota gently led her over to the bed Chiyo was sitting beside. “Come, Sweet Girl, it’s ok.” He told her softly when she hesitated to get too close to Chiyo and Taishiro. The fact there were three adults in one room with her alone probably did not help.

Eventually, Misaki slowly climbed up onto the bed, her legs dangling above the floor, and arms curled around herself once more.

“Hey, Kiddo, did you have a good day?” Taishiro cheerfully asked, though his usually booming voice was soft, as it was just for (their) traumatized children, plus Shota.

Misaki didn’t respond for a while but eventually settled on giving the slightest shrug in response. Shota sent his husband a look, mouthing he would try to explain later, getting a minuscule nod in response.

“It’s nice to meet you, Misaki-San, my name is Chiyo, and I’ve heard enough about you to know your foster dads are excited to have you,” Chiyo began, swiveling her chair closer to the bed. “Now, today, I will be doing a basic checkup with you, I’ll explain everything I’m doing as I’m doing it. Shota and Taishiro can step out of the room if you would like, or they could stay, it’s up to you. All you have to do is tell me if you’re uncomfortable with anything, Dear, that’s all that’s expected of you today.”

Misaki only nodded, hands fumbling with the edges of her frayed shirt sleeve. Shota mentally noted he needed to get her some comfortable clothes to wear.

“Alright, Dearie, we will do this one step at a time, at your pace,” Chiyo promised and thus began the appointment.

Doctor Chiyo measured how tall they were first, mumbling something beneath her breath, tone not necessarily unhappy or content, maybe clinical. Then she measured how much Izuku weighed and was visibly dissatisfied, Izuku fought to keep their expression from turning self-conscious, feeling shamed at the looks being shared around the room. Then she moved on to other tests, Izuku mostly zoned out while they were happening, though stayed present enough that they could see when people were getting too close to them. When Doctor Chiyo asked them questions, they either didn’t answer at all or gave one-word answers. Then she moved on to more private questions that she had The tall man and the tired man (Taishiro and Shota?) step out for.

Most of the questions felt too prying, and Izuku never did like doctors, so they didn’t answer almost any of them, which seemed to disappoint the doctor.

Eventually, Doctor Chiyo asked if they were hurt, and because they knew their face was bruising, they reluctantly nodded, but did not explain the cuts and bruises and scars that were hiding from her. Though they did admit that their injuries were only minor when the doctor began reach for them, asking how severe the injuries were.

Doctor Chiyo called the foster parents back inside.

“I’m going to use my quirk on her, so she might be a bit tired if you want to take her home,” Doctor Chiyo said, Izuku instantly dug their nails into their palms, uncomfortable with the idea of a quirk being used on them. “Misaki’s papers say she’s up to date on all of her vaccinations. Is there anything specific you want me to check out before I do that?”

“Um, no I don’t believe so?” The tall man shared a glance with the tired man. “Yeah, I think we’re all good, anything else could just wait until another appointment.”

“Alright then.” Doctor Chiyo turned to Izuku, a smile on her face, Izuku fought not to lean away. “Misaki-San, you’re going to feel tired after this, but don’t be alarmed, all you will need is sleep.” That was all the warning they got before lips were pressed to their forehead.

They flinched at the contact.

It took no time at all for the quirk to take effect, and Izuku was sure their injuries weren’t that bad, but suddenly they were leaning back, collapsing against the mattress and starting to fall unconscious.

Maybe the fact I was tired already didn’t help?

Taishiro was instantly alarmed when Misaki practically collapsed after being healed, rushing forward as her eyes slipped closed. He hesitated to touch though and instead turned to look at Chiyo who took a moment, frowning and checking Misaki’s heartbeat, then blood pressure.

“Whatever injuries she had I don’t think were that bad, but I think she must have had a lot spread out over her body instead, along with some slightly older ones. Misaki-San also seemed to be a bit tired already, so I wouldn’t worry so much, she’s just getting some much-needed rest.” Chiyo explained Taishiro heard his own and Shota’s relieved sighs synchronize. “Get her home, and in bed, make sure she eats and drinks more because she’s almost severely underweight for her age and height.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Taishiro heard Shota promise as carefully, as Taishiro leaned down to lift his baby girl into his arms. 

Too light.

“Alright, Gummybear, come on, let’s get the boys and get you home to bed,” He whispered, cradling her close in his arms. It was probably going to be a while before he could hold her without her being afraid, so Taishiro was certainly going to savor the moment it would take to get the kids and to the car.

“Oh, the little one’s curling into you,” Shota whispered, voice thick with adoration. “Seeking your body head.”

“Yes, yes, your daughter is very cute, now go get her home, boys and say hello to your sons for me,” Chiyo ushered them out of the infirmary, rolling her eyes in a way Shota had explained to be fond.

“Bye Chiyo, thank you again,” Shota said softly, clearly not wanting to speak too loud so close to Misaki. Taishiro echoed his thanks, though most of his focus was on brushing back the messy curls from Misaki’s face, and adjusting her dorky, round, darling , cracked glasses.

As the two of the headed for the teachers lounge, Misaki seemed to be dead to the world, sleeping so silently, Taishiro half thought she was holding her breath, despite being able to feel the gentle rise and fall of her breath.

“She picked at her food all through breakfast, how do you think we can get her to eat more?” Shota posed the question, reaching out to graze his fingers over Misaki’s dainty, too-thin wrist.

“Well, we could try figuring out what her favorite tastes and textures are and work from there, I suppose?”Taishiro suggested, getting a nod from Shota. “We can’t scare her by shoving lots of food at her though.”

Misaki let out a small sound of discontent in her sleep and Taishiro physically stopped in place to rock her in his arms and shush her until she settled, observing every twitch of her expressions. When she settled, he continued on his way with Shota.

His brothers on either side of him, Tamaki worked on his homework, his brothers doing the same. Every now and then, he had to flick one of them on the nose, because they kept getting distracted by something or other, but for the most part, they both seemed to be getting through their work easily without help. There were only few teachers in the room, none of them paying much mind to their, semi-regular, presence.

The doors to the lounge opened, and in stepped their Dad and Papa. Papa was carrying Misaki in his arms, her body limp with sleep.

“Let’s go, boys, pack up your things,” Dad whispered, which they all were quick to do. “Misaki-San’s asleep, so try not to be too loud, please.”

Once all packed up, they hurried to the door where their parents were waiting. Tamaki glanced down at Misaki and felt his shoulders loosen, relax. The little girl seemed content in sleep.

“Aw,” Hitoshi uttered at his side.

“Don’t stare too hard, she might sense you,” Neito teased, though he looked equally soft over the sleeping beauty.

“Alright, you lot, now now,” Dad laughed softly, shaking his head, looking fond more than anything else. “Let’s go, we need to get the little one to bed.”

Chapter Text

I don’t remember getting here.

Izuku was tucked into the bed at their foster home. They didn’t remember leaving the nurse's office, so that meant they had been carried, touched, from the nurse's office to the foster house. They caught themself scratching at their wrists and curled their fingers inward, fingernails gliding flat against their skin instead of almost through it. Their skin felt like it had ants underneath it, and it was making them shake.

Biting into their lip, Izuku kept scratching, shifting to bury their face in the pillows as they shook, and tried not to panic with how thin their breath felt.

Not safe, touch- adult touch, adult touch and I’m not aware- not safe, not safe, not safe, no. no. Not safe. No touch. Bad, bad, bad, no, bad. Bad touch, adult touch, no touch, no, bad, no.

Grabs the collar of their school shirt, which they were still in, which meant they hadn’t been changed out of it, most likely hadn’t had their clothes removed, much to their bleary relief, brings the fabric of their collar to their mouth, starting to chew on the fabric, trying to soothe themself as they scratched at their burning skin.

No bad, no bad touch, no bad, no bad, mm-mm, no, no, no, I don’t wanna be touched- not by fosters, scary, no, bad, no, no, badbadbad-

Eyes scrunching closed, they tried to breathe, hearing the tremble in each inhale.

Bad, no bad touch…

Tamaki nodded when Papa asked him to go get Misaki for dinner, already heading for the stairs. Misaki had been asleep all through the car ride home, their head drooped against the van door, body twitching every now and then, maybe as they dreamed, or not, who knew.

Approaching the door, Tamaki took a soft breath before gently knocking on the door. He got no response, but he had yet to hear the girl give any verbal responses. He stood there, listening for anything before slowly opening the door. “Misaki-San, it’s Tamaki, I’m coming in.”

As he entered the room, he noted the lack of decoration, which mirrored how his bedroom had once been before he unpacked and went shopping at Dad and Papa’s demand. His heart ached a little at the empty room, but he ignored it, gaze drifting over to the bed as he heard shaky breaths.

There, under the covers, Misaki was trembling, eyes screwed shut, a hand gripping her curls while the other scratched at the reddening skin of her wrist, and her shirt collar between her teeth. 

“Oh-” Tamaki gasped, walking over and crouching at the bed's edge. “Misaki? Misaki-San, yo-you’re ok, you’re o-ok, breathe, ni-nice a-and slow please, ca-can you-you hear me?” She showed no sign of hearing him, and he was getting worried about her nails digging into her skin and the grip she had on her hair. “Misak-ki, you’re hurting yourself, if y-ou don’t stop, I’m going to int-tervene, ok? I’m sorry, Little One.” When 10 seconds passed and still she continued to scratch, Tamaki decided to reach out and grab her hands, separating them from her hair and wrist. “I’m sorry, Misaki, I know y-you probably don’t li-like being touched when you’re scared, but you’re hurting yourself, and I can’t let you.” He told her softly as she immediately struggled against his gentle grip with soft whining cries that were so quiet and yet the loudest sound he had ever heard from her.

Tamaki continued to hold onto her hands as she struggled, to keep her from hurting herself again. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. He was sure she wouldn’t normally be so expressive, he remembered being scared at her age and having breakdowns like this when he couldn’t hold it in after holding it in for too long.

“Shhh, shh, you’re ok, Misaki, you’re ok, Misaki-Chan, ok? You’re ok, br-breathe for me? Breathe in, 1, 2, 3, 4, ho-hold, 1, 2, 3, 4, breathe out, 1, 2, 3, 4,” He could see her eyes squeeze shut harder, her shaky breaths just slightly changing in pattern. “Good job, Misaki-Chan, let’s try again. Breathe in, 1, 2, 3, 4, hold, 1, 2, 3, 4, breathe out, 1, 2, 3, 4, g-good girl, and again?”

He continued to guide her to breathe, seeing the slight changes with every breath, gently encouraging and praising her every breath, still holding her hands. She struggled against him less and less, and started to stop her crying, her miserable scared sounds. Tamaki just tried to smile and keep his voice soft.

Taishiro started to dish out the food he had made with Neito being his trusty little helper, Hitoshi, having set the table when he picked up on a concerning sound from upstairs.

“Hey, you keep dishing please, Mochi, I’ll be back,” Taishiro murmured, getting a nod out of Neito as he walked away, making his way upstairs to, hearing more worrying, distressed sounds. Coming from Misaki’s room.

Taishiro rushed the rest of the way upstairs and peeked inside, finding Tamaki kneeling beside the bed, clasping Misaki’s hands while speaking softly. Misaki was trembling, tears falling, and breathing shaky and heavy.

Oh, dear God. Nightmare scare? No.. Panic attack?

There was angry red marks on one of her wrists, a sign she had scratched at her skin. He couldn’t help but worry at the sight, especially when he spotted tiny beads of blood, barely visible, but still present.

Tamaki was using his training for panicked civilians to try soothe Misaki and get her to breathe, Taishiro was proud of his boy for that. She seemed to ever so slowly be calming down. Taishiro stayed back, letting him handle the situation, not wanting to accidentally set Misaki off again.

They wanted to be let go.

Izuku was following the breathing pattern given to them, and they had given up on struggling against the grip on their hands, Tamaki was stronger than them, but being touched was still making their skin crawl.

“-Aki, can you hear me?” I must have spaced out. “There you are, are you alright?” Tamaki asked, and slowly Izuku nodded. “That’s good, you’re doing so well with your breathing. I’m going to let go of your hands now, but no more scratching, ok?” Again, Izuku nodded slowly, bringing their hands close to their chest when he let go.

There was a gentle knock on the door soon after they were released. Izuku glanced up through their eyelashes, seeing the tall man, Taishiro, in the doorway. “Hey Kiddo’s, are you alright in here?”

Izuku looked away and nodded. “Yeah, Papa, we’re alright, we were just about to come down for dinner,” Tamaki responded. Izuku was surprised and confused as to why he didn’t mention their moment of weakness but was mildly relieved about it as well.

“That’s good,” Taishiro smiled widely. “Come on downstairs, I think your brothers want to watch a movie during dinner.

“Coming,” Tamaki stood, glancing down at Izuku. “Misaki-Chan, are you coming?” Silently, Izuku stood up, following Tamaki out of their room.