Chapter Text
Headlines.
What heroes live and die by, or their livelihoods anyway. Some find them more grating than others. It’s a simple fact of the professional hero career; visibility is half the job, whether you like it or not. You’re saving lives, and the public likes to see that, so the Commission uses that popularity as an easily accessible metric to judge the capabilities of the many heroes throughout the country. People like their flashy heroes, after all.
If it were any other headline, Toshinori wouldn’t give it a second thought. He’s more than used to them at this point, desensitized to the ping-pong between borderline libel and utter worship that most news outlets are prone to.
But it isn’t any other headline. It would be much easier to deal with if it was.
Number One Hero Turned Number One Babysitter?!
As we all know, the incomparable All Might is a force of nature even in the world of heroes, but it seems he’s been rather busy in his personal life as well! Multiple sources have reported sightings of everyone’s favorite number one hero alongside two unknown young children, presumably relatives, although this has yet to be confirmed. Nobody has ever witnessed All Might with a spouse or even a girlfriend, so are these two kids his secret shame?!
And there, sitting right below that obnoxious little blurb of words on his phone screen, is a hastily snapped picture of All Might with two young boys in his arms, one with baggy clothes and light gray hair falling over his face and a much smaller one with messy green frizz haloing his round cheeks and big eyes. The cameraperson was clearly in a rush – the three figures are smeared with motion blur from someone’s quick movement – but All Might is unmistakable.
Toshinori threads his hand through his hair and tugs hard at the messy golden tangle, letting his phone fall pathetically against his chest. He knows exactly when the picture was taken. Of all the days to get snooped on, of all the times, it had to be this one.
Roughly a week ago, he’d needed to jet out for some hero work while he was with his kids. A building collapse, thanks to some jackass crook with a quirk that secreted explosive jelly from his fingers, and an unfortunate sparking wire due to some out-of-date electrical work. He hadn’t had time to drop the boys off somewhere safe beforehand, so he’d had to tuck them both away in a nearby alley with a simple promise that he wouldn’t be gone for very long, playing it off like he had forgotten something at the corner store they’d recently walked out of.
Toshinori dashed off and settled the matter in a tidy fifteen minutes. The little ones hadn’t moved a bit, as they promised, and Toshinori had retrieved them the moment the work was done. It had to have been the miniscule window between picking the two up from their hiding place and shifting back down to his smaller form.
He should be more worried about the likelihood that the media knows his unfortunate secret injury. Except he’s far more terrified for his kids’ safety and well-being.
Tenko is already a very shy child, mortified at the prospect of social interaction thanks to the reactions people have to his morbid quirk, among…other reasons. Toshinori has spent the better part of five years getting the boy to feel safe enough to merely ask for food and water when he needs it. If the media starts to hound him when they’re simply out for a walk…
There’s less concern for Izuku, but it’s still very much there. He’s much younger than his adoptive brother – Tenko is about ten years old while Izuku is only four – and much less timid, but that makes Toshinori worry more, not less. He’s watched Izuku nearly wander off with a stranger more than once because he was so busy babbling that he didn’t realize he’d started following them. Any ill-intentioned adult that showed a mild amount of interest in his hyperactive rambles could easily snatch him away without trouble.
Nighteye has said he needed to invest in a reliable babysitter, more than once. Toshinori has always brushed him off about it, assuring that he had more than enough time in his schedule for his boys and his job. Now, it feels like an oversight for the pair not to have somewhere to stay where they wouldn’t be swarmed with invasive questions and jabbing microphones and cameras in their faces if they so much as stepped outside.
What a mess. What a fucking mess, Toshinori thinks as he slumps back against the arm of the couch.
“T…Toshinori?” Toshinori is up with a jolt at the sound of that soft, croaking voice. Tenko is standing nervously just beside the couch, twisting his hands into his oversized shirt. “I…” He hides beneath the curtain of hair falling over his eyes.
Toshinori reaches gently for him, holding his hand out patiently. “Tenko, what do you need?” He resists the urge to start throwing things out to figure out what his older son wants to ask for. When he’d first brought Tenko home with him, he was constantly trying to guess at what the boy wanted or needed, always wanting to take care of him since he was so clearly neglected for so long. A few years of therapy sessions later, Toshinori reluctantly transitioned to this, so Tenko could gradually build some confidence and independence he was desperately in need of.
The boy shuffles closer on gangly legs – a perfectly normal growth spurt, albeit earlier than expected, according to the pediatrician – until he can nudge his shoulder into Toshinori’s hand. “I…you. Need you,” Tenko quietly mutters.
He lurches forward until his head is nestled securely in Toshinori’s chest. Toshinori rubs his hand reassuringly along the boy’s arm and wraps his free arm around Tenko’s shoulders, pulling him into a gentle but firm hug. “I’m right here, kiddo,” Toshinori whispers into his fraying gray hair. “Just need held for a bit?” Tenko shakes his head. “Hungry or thirsty?” Tenko nods. “Okay, let’s go get you something, then.”
Toshinori twists around to get his feet on the ground, then wraps his arms securely around Tenko and lifts him as he rises, carrying the dreadfully thin child with him to the kitchenette of his apartment. Toshinori just barely avoids shaking with rage every time he thinks about Tenko’s poor health.
All for One was obviously a sick bastard, but the fact that he’d take out his egregious vendetta on a child is a new level of low. Perhaps Toshinori should’ve known better than to expect anything less. All for One has never hesitated to inflict his twisted schemes before, why would he suddenly grow a conscience over one innocent kid? Particularly considering the boy’s heritage…
The fact that the monster still lived was proof enough that Toshinori had more morality in a shattered fragment of bone than All for One could ever cobble together. It had been a near thing, though.
Despite his own sickly appearance, Toshinori has maintained a decent level of strength in his smaller form, so carrying Tenko as he muddles around the kitchen isn’t very taxing. Not that he’d bulk up for it anyway – Tenko is petrified by Toshinori if he doesn’t warn him before changing into his more heroic form. His therapist still hasn’t found a reason for it, but Toshinori respects the obvious boundary anyway. He doesn’t need to understand why the boy is so afraid of so many otherwise innocuous things, he just needs to help him through it all.
Tenko is rather picky about his food, both because of his allergies and his overall hypersensitivity he’d developed from whatever hell he’d been living in before Toshinori brought him home. He enjoys light, soft fruit like lychee and apple, but he turns them both down when Toshinori asks. Rice is usually good, but he says no to that, too.
“You after something specific, Ten?”
“Um. Y-yeah. Th-the…” Tenko grips his shirt so hard that it starts to rip, little ragged sounds as the fibers are pulled apart. He shoves his head into Toshinori’s throat and points with shaky fingers to the wrapped cucumber sitting on the lowest shelf.
“Alright, alright, hey, it’s okay,” Toshinori reassures, gently pulling Tenko’s hands out of his clothes. “Can I put you down while I slice it up for you?” The kid nods, though it’s a hesitant and jerky motion.
Rather than second-guess him, Toshinori sets the boy carefully on his feet and goes about preparing the veggie for him, cautious of how he moves since Tenko clings to his pant leg as soon as he lets go.
The slices are plated and on the nearby table when Izuku’s tiny thunderclapping footsteps dash out of his room. “Morning, Dad! Morning, Tenko!” He greets chipperly.
Tenko winces slightly at the younger boy’s volume as he’s sliding into his seat, but he smiles at Izuku anyway. “M-morning.”
“Izuku,” Toshinori sighs, “We’ve talked about this, bud. Keep it down when you first wake up, alright? Tenko’s sensitive to the noise, remember?”
Izuku’s little round face grows bright red, and his shoulders hunch as he looks away. “S-sorry.”
Toshinori can’t suppress the fond sigh that erupts from his chest. He can’t be mad at the kid for being so happy all the time. It’s not like he’s intentionally trying to trigger Tenko’s sensitivities, he’s just always happy to see them. Tenko struggles with things coming into his eyes and ears and mouth, Izuku struggles with what comes out. “It’s okay. Just try to do better to remember. Alright?”
Izuku opens his mouth and his chest puffs up like he’s about to yell something, but he catches himself, slapping his hand over his mouth before he can commit to it. His cheeks are still lightly flushed when he says in a subdued tone, “I’ll try, Dad.” Izuku steps to his brother and puts both of his little hands on the older boy’s leg. “Sorry, Ten.”
“I-it’s…it’s okay,” Tenko stutters out. “You weren’t…that loud,” He adds quietly, quickly shoving a cucumber slice into his mouth to avoid talking any more than that.
Toshinori steps over and scoops his younger son up, met with Izuku’s giddy giggling, although the boy does try to cover his mouth to regulate his volume a bit. “Alright, troublemaker, I fed your brother already. What’s for breakfast?”
“Tamagoyaki!”
“You got it, kiddo. Go sit at the table, and I’ll work on the egg. Deal?”
“Yeah!” Toshinori leans down to allow Izuku to get back on his own feet and smiles as the little one dashes to the empty chair to Tenko’s right, scrambling into it with his much shorter legs, though he needs the foothold of Tenko’s offered leg to get up the last few inches.
A warmth settles in Toshinori’s chest to see the two boys get along together so well. They’re far from a typical family, but that suits Toshinori just fine. The Symbol of Peace has never been anything close to typical in his life.
Tamagoyaki is a common breakfast request from Izuku, so Toshinori rarely puts the pan away. A bad habit, but the only other person that ever sees it is Nighteye, and Mirai would just find something else to nitpick if it wasn’t the pan on the counter. Gods only know the kind of studying he’d do to find something as equally frivolous to nag about.
The dish is quick to put together, so Toshinori gets the rice cooker filled and started before he starts to pull out the eggs, dashi, mirin and soy sauce. Some part of him is ashamed of how much he likes to not have to try so hard to please Izuku. It’s an incredibly silly feeling, one that he smothers down as soon as he can feel it rise. He loves both kids the same, regardless of what he has to do to care for them, or the different attention he has to pay to both.
A few minutes later, a warm, steaming plate of sliced tamagoyaki and rice is set in front of Izuku. The boy grins as he snatches up his chopsticks. “Thanks, Dad! This looks really good!”
“No problem, brat.” Toshinori roughly musses Izuku’s frizzy green hair. He glances at Tenko, still slowly working his way through his breakfast. Toshinori gently rubs the older boy’s shoulder, and Tenko looks up at him with a tiny, unsure smile on his cracked and scarred lips.
His cell phone suddenly rings, joyfully crying out A phone call is here! Toshinori grunts in mild annoyance. He was still in a little bit of a mood from reading that headline, but not enough to ignore the call. Toshinori trudges over and flips the device screen-up to see just who is barging in on his mostly pleasant morning.
Mirai. Figures.
Toshinori tries (and fails) to keep the slight edge from his voice as he answers with, “What, Nighteye?”
“Someone’s grouchy.”
Toshinori rolls his eyes, even if the effect is ruined by the slight smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, a bit.” He glances over his shoulder – Tenko and Izuku are still working through breakfast and not paying him any mind. “I had to see my boys in the news.”
Mirai makes a soft surprised noise. “Tenko and Izuku? How?”
“Ito.”
“You didn’t take your children to the crime scene, did you?”
Toshinori chokes on a sudden rise of blood in his mouth. “Of course not!” He replies hastily once his mouth is clear again. “But we were out together when it happened, and I didn’t have time to get them home before taking care of it. Someone caught All Might with them, and now…”
Mirai sighs heavily on the other end of the line. Toshinori can imagine how he’s pinching his brow with annoyance. “Now the media knows you have two sons that look nothing like you and are making assumptions,” Mirai finishes for him.
Accurate as ever. Toshinori had tried not to let his eyes wander past that initial headline, but he had spotted a few recent companion articles with the exact kind of speculation Mirai was suggesting. Worthless gossip rags making guesses at who his mistress is, or if he has a secret wife, or any number of other, related things, equally as baseless.
Thankfully, at a glance, none of them seemed too worried about the identities of his kids, and so long as it stayed that way, Toshinori could weather the rest. He knows better than to hope that his sons will be spared from the media attention indefinitely, but maybe they’ll be so focused on All Might that they won’t bother the kids too much.
“Would you like me to handle it?” Mirai asks. “I can give the media a neat statement, tell them that Tenko and Izuku are just kids from a few Ito firm employees. That would take much of the attention away from them and fit in rather cleanly with your heroics.”
That sounds like a decent plan. Unfortunately, Toshinori feels some obnoxious sentiment tugging at the more reasonable parts of his brain. Like saying that would be publicly disowning his boys.
“Toshinori, you’re overthinking.” Damn you, Mirai, stop being so fucking… “I’ll carry out whatever you decide, but I feel rather confident that this is the best way to direct the media.”
“Yeah, I know. Just- Hell.”
“Yes, it is exactly that.” How dare Mirai sound like he’s smiling. Bastard. “But you accepted this risk, consciously or not, when you chose not to take them home before jumping into heroics.”
“I know, Mirai. I know. I… You know why I’m worried.”
“I do.” A few beats of silence pass. Toshinori takes the opportunity to sit heavily on the sofa, playing absently with the frayed hem of his old band tee that he’d slept in and not yet changed out of. “Tenko will be fine. He rarely leaves without you anyway.” Another moment of quiet. “All for One is still under police custody, Toshinori,” Mirai adds quietly, “And there’s nobody that knows of Tenko otherwise. He will be fine.”
“…He will be.” Toshinori wishes he could believe his own words as easily as other people do. Toshinori sighs heavily. “Sorry. You’re right. They’ll both be fine. And you’re right about the statement, too. You can go ahead with that.”
Mirai hums quietly, nearly inaudible over the phone. It’s a silly little habit he falls into when he’s doing desk work. “It may be better to have All Might make the statement,” he mutters. “That should take most of the focus away from the children, and it would avoid feeding into the idea that they’re the product of a secretive relationship.”
Toshinori absently drums his fingertips on his knee. “Good point. Let me know when you’ve got an interview time worked out for it.”
“Mmhm. Ah, and I originally called to remind you of your appointments for the day.”
“Which ones?”
“Ms. Suzuki will be arriving in roughly thirty minutes for her usual session with Tenko, Mr. Aoki informed me that his previous students were struggling and that he won’t be around until an hour after his usual arrival, and Izuku has a scheduled visit with his physician at three.”
“Geez. Packed me tight today, didn’t you?”
Mirai huffs a humorless laugh. “Two of those are perfectly regular, recurring appointments, Toshinori.”
They are. It still sounds like a lot because he has to stick around to make sure Aoki arrives on time, and him being late means Toshinori and Izuku will need to rush a bit to get to the doctor’s office while Aoki carries out his usual tutoring with Tenko.
Ah, well. All Might works great under pressure.