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Hizashi is not arrogant enough to believe that he is without flaws– as a person, as a partner, as a hero, or as a teacher. Nobody is perfect, and he's well aware of that fact, which is probably why he was so willing to overlook what is perhaps his biggest flaw as a parent:
He can't for the life of him discipline his son.
As a teacher, Present Mic is someone that his students know not to step up to. Eraserhead has the reputation of ruling with an iron fist, but Mic is truly the one that shouldn't be tested. He loves his kiddos, very dearly, and he tries his absolute hardest to be as soft on them as he can because he knows that being a teenager is rough, and being a UA hopeful is even rougher.
But he doesn't tolerate misbehavior and he doesn't tolerate disrespect. He prides himself, and his classroom, in being a safe space and that means dealing with poor attitudes swiftly, efficiently, and without any hesitation. He prefers to nip it in the bud, being kind and gentle while still firm in his decisions.
Doing it at home, however, is a different monster entirely.
Hizashi is a man of many vices, struggling with his own emotions and repressing them using any indulgence that he can get his hands on– drugs, alcohol, social media. He’s long since knocked his worse habits down the drain, having dropped them when Nemuri asked him to come on as a teacher, but there's one that continues to prickle at his skin no matter what he does. Hizashi's wrath, his primal rage, has been apart of him for far longer than the kinder, gentler part. The persona of Present Mic doesn't come to him as naturally as he leads his listeners to think and it's more often than not that Shouta, a man who lurks in the shadows with a morality streaked with blood, is his primary impulse control.
And Hitoshi…
Hitoshi is their student, yes, and he is subject to their strict demeanors at school throughout the week, however, he is also the victim of the same systems of abuse that gets painfully reflected in Hizashi's own memories– the very systems that his anger was born out of. As Shouta likes to say, people are extremely irrational creatures and their decisions are based primarily on fear and money. As such, there isn't a child in Japan with an undesirable quirk that hasn't faced the cruelties of the uncaring.
Hitoshi wasn't just left to sit silently in a corner, strapped with a muzzle around his face, to be neglected for years on end like Hizashi was. Hizashi’s quirk, while absolutely dangerous, is vastly underestimated by people in its capabilities for destruction and he's seen as much more of an annoyance, a painful inconvenience. This boy, because he still is just a boy, has a quirk that takes away people's autonomy, their control, and that leaves him painted black and blue from adults being consumed in their own fear.
Because of that, things at home are far more relaxed and the handling of discipline is much more personal. That is to say, it's almost entirely nonexistent. Hitoshi has a smart mouth on him that can sometimes edge the line of disrespect but, generally, the boy loathes testing them. He never intentionally breaks rules, he never talks back, he never does anything that he thinks could even be interpreted as something that could damn him. After years of everyone assuming the worst in him, he refuses to do anything around them that could be seen as defiant or otherwise villainous.
(It's a bit of a different story when you start to include old fosters that Hitoshi would lash out at when he realized that he would get punished regardless, or when you put him in a room with kids his age who have no authority over him and therefore he has no reason to keep himself in check. But that's why Hizashi says that he’s a good kid generally speaking. He is a good kid, he just also is a deeply hurt kid that cares very little about anyone, including himself, and, like Hizashi, lets his anger fester and twist inside him.
Personally, Hizashi takes the fact that he wants to please them so much as a sign that he loves them and is scared to lose them. It doesn't make it suck any less when he panics at every mistake, but it keeps things in perspective that there is progress that's been made.)
Shouta, as expected, tends to be the primary disciplinarian. Hitoshi trusts him and they both view the world through a lens of logic and mutual understanding. If Shouta explains why something he did was wrong, Hitoshi is more likely to get where he's coming from. And, even when he doesn't, he knows that Shouta will always be fair to him about his punishment– not that it's ever really come up yet.
Shouta doesn't tend to believe in punishments either, which likely contributes to the lack of needing to do more than give Hitoshi a well placed warning. Hizashi and his husband are both people who highly value the mentality of fuck around and find out. There have already been a fair few times where Hitoshi has found that the natural consequence of his choices far outweigh anything that Hizashi and Shouta can do, especially given that the boy will practically boil himself alive in guilt and self hatred if left unchecked after a mistake.
The most severe punishment that Shouta has ever doled out was a simple grounding for two weeks where Hitoshi wasn't allowed to train because the boy had worked himself so hard that he fainted from exhaustion. He could still see his friends, he could still use his electronics, and he didn't even have to go to bed early.
It was hardly anything in the grand scheme of things, and that's just how they like it.
Hitoshi also tends to stick to Shouta's side most of the time, anyway, so it's usually Shouta that finds stuff out first. Hizashi doesn't have a problem with that. He knew from the beginning that Shouta was going to be the boy's trusted adult and that it would take a lot of time for him to get comfortable around Hizashi, if he did at all, and that was fine. Hizashi didn't take it personally. He understands how trauma is and he knows that, even if it hurts his feelings a bit to be left out and rejected time and time again, it's not about him.
All that to say, Hizashi is Hitoshi's parent in theory more than he is in practice and, as such, he really doesn't feel comfortable disciplining the little listener, especially with how much he avoids processing his own traumatic background or his lingering anger issues. Their relationship is already so rocky, hanging on nothing more than a stringy guitar string that's seconds from splitting apart. The last thing he wants is to set them back to the beginning or, even worse, go into the negatives, all because he snapped too harshly or pushed too much during a precarious interaction.
Because, as much as Shouta likes to downplay the severity of their situation, it is precarious.
Hitoshi has loads of triggers, many of which Shouta and Hizashi don't even know because the little listener refuses to reveal too many weaknesses to them. He's full of grief, mourning the childhood and life that he deserved to have, and it leaves him raw and splintered with unpredictable moods that usually end in him isolating himself so he doesn't accidentally get himself in trouble.
Because, as mentioned before, one of the triggers that they do know, and that they know very well, is how badly he takes to being in trouble.
Typically, Hitoshi is very deadpan, just like Shouta is, and he likes to pretend like nothing affects him, even when he's spiraling on the inside. He adorns a carefully curated mask, just like Hizashi does, and pretends to be utterly unaffected by anything happening to him at any given point, just like Hizashi does.
However, this facet of him drastically changes once you throw in his primary coping mechanism.
Like discipline, Shouta is usually the one that handles Hitoshi when he's feeling small for very similar reasons. Over the last few weeks, though, Hizashi has slowly been integrated into the caregiving cycle. He's really not sure how this came to be, only knows that one day he woke up and realized that he went from feeling like a babysitter to an actual father, but he assumes it came from some sneaky plan that Shouta, the conniving fox, concocked behind his back.
Something that quickly became apparent to Hizashi when this shift happened is that Hitoshi's regressed headspace completely stripped him of his mask of indifference and left the men with a sniveling little boy that can't self-regulate anything worth a damn– not that he can do that when he's big either. Hitoshi is a total crybaby in this state, rocking the waterworks like it's his full time job. They encourage it, of course, and try to help him process his big, overwhelming feelings, but it is absolutely terrifying to deal with when you're a first time parent that isn't all that great with kids in the first place.
And Hitoshi's reaction to his triggers are far more extreme, and far more in their faces, than they would be otherwise. The second an adult shows any disapproval, Hitoshi will no longer lock himself in his room to panic, instead he immediately starts crying and it often times leads to him throwing a bratty tantrum because, for all that he wants to be a good boy, he doesn't know how to react to his own anxiety and it bubbles out in those familiar bursts of anger. Hizashi would like to believe that it's Hitoshi feeling safe enough to show them that side of him but, realistically, he knows that it's far more complicated than that.
What he doesn't know is how to deal with any of Hitoshi's meltdowns, big or small. He doesn't know what to do when faced with an imagery so similar to his own, something that he had spetn years trying to avoid. So, he handles it the way that he handles most things– by not dealing with it at all. He lets Shouta, who already carries the load of being Hitoshi's primary caregiver and guardian, calm the boy and then Hizashi will come around afterwards for lots of cuddles when the anger fades and all that's left is a teary eyed baby. It may be a bit unfair to saddle Shouta with all of these parenting responsibilities, but Hizashi always figured that it was temporary anyway. And besides, It's a pretty fuckin’ solid system that works perfectly!
Until Shouta had been called away for a week for a classified mission.
It had been fine, for the most part. Hizashi and Hitoshi are cordial regardless of Shouta's intervention and Hitoshi spends most of his time moping around in his room, clearing missing his mentor and having a teen ego too grand to admit it– which, luckily, makes conflict easy to avoid.
Hizashi makes sure to feed, water, and pet the kid whenever he graces Hizashi and the cats with his gloomy presence but, other than that, he just gives Hitoshi his space. Hizashi knows that his hands off approach likely isn't the best, and he also misses Shouta more than he could ever say, but what else can he do when they both know that Hizashi isn't really his parent in the same way that Shouta is? They’re more like glorified roommates, honestly.
And it's not like Hizashi doesn't try to offer Hitoshi support in the form of awkward reassurances of being there for him followed by even more awkward finger guns that don't manage to pull even a pity smile out of the boy. That's, like, Hizashi's entire arsenal of emotional support tools!
If Hitoshi is okay with how things are then Hizashi isn't going to pull him into interacting with him. It hurts his heart to see the boy so clearly sad, his attachment to Shouta possibly edging on unhealthily codependent. The only thing that seems to cheer him up is the nightly phone calls that Shouta insisted he'd try to commit to even if he had to take them in the middle of an active fight against a villain.
Unfortunately, that's not something that he can actually promise and, while Hizashi can fundamentally understand that as an adult with the knowledge and experiences of a seasoned Pro Hero, Hitoshi cannot. Which is why things had been fine and, on night five of eight, things suddenly became as far away from fine as you can possibly get. In fact, it's everything that Hizashi had tried to avoid for the entirety of their relationship.
“He promised!”
Hitoshi is standing in front of him with a deep scowl etched into his face, anger weighing heavily on his brow and eyes far too misty for him to be entirely the age of a rational sixteen year old boy. His fists are clenched at his sides and, perhaps the most concerning, he is ignoring the entourage of cats watching him curiously from the couch beside him.
“I know, honey,” Hizashi tries to soothe. He has his phone in hand, still open to the text that Shouta sent him from his burner phone about being unable to do tonight's call. He didn't explain why, most likely because he couldn't, but he did end it with an apology which is more than Hizashi would've gotten if this happened prior to them adopting Hitoshi. The boy in question doesn't seem to care that much, however.
“You can't just promise something and then go back on it!” Hitoshi continues, raising his voice at Hizashi as if he's responsible for his horrible night and is not just the messenger. Ire ripples out of the boy's mouth, stronger than the physical sound waves of Hizashi activating his quirk. “Heroes aren't supposed to lie!”
Hizashi forces down a sigh. “He wasn't lying, Toshi-chan. Heroes don't lie, but they also don't control how busy they are. He promised that he would try and he did. I hear ya, kiddo, I do. I'm sad that he can't call either but–”
A loud thud and screech against the hardwood floor that has the cats scrambling away interrupts him as Hitoshi, in a blur of upset, drives a hard kick against the back of their sofa. He winces a bit at the impact, made especially unserious by the pink and purple neko-chan socks on his feet, and stumbles back, chest on the precipice of caving in with heaves.
“Okay, c'mon, little man! Your dad is doin’ his best here and assaulting the furniture ain't cool.” Hizashi says, an utterly lackluster response as a parent with a tantruming son. They've been going back and forth about this for the last ten minutes, though, and the entire thing has been rather one-note as Hitoshi repeats the same thing over and over. “How ‘bout we take some deep breaths and–”
Hitoshi, frustratingly, cuts him off again with a watery scoff. “He's a shitty hero and an even shittier dad!”
“Hey, now, watch that ‘tude, little listener!” Hizashi lets his tone take on an edge of a warning as he points at his son. “I know you're upset, and that's okay, but that doesn't give you the go-ahead to start bein’ mean, ya dig?”
It's very obvious to anyone with eyes that Hitoshi is walking the line between headspaces, just small enough to leave his mask of indifference cracked and his self control lacking and just big enough to know exactly how to lash out in a way that hurts everyone, including himself. It's a bit hard to tell if Hitoshi is aware of it or if he's just too overwhelmed to notice. When they talked about it before, Hitoshi said that he almost never notices that he's dropping down in age until after he's aging up again. He says it's like when your vision is slowly getting worse but you don't know how blurry everything has gotten until you get glasses.
It leaves Hizashi in a bit of a pickle because he knows that Hitoshi is on the edge, needing a gentle push to actually tip over, but if Hitoshi catches on to Hizashi's attempts to bring him down while this moody, it's just going to lead to an even bigger explosion of teen angst and that's a song Hizashi isn’t too interested in playing.
He knows that getting Hitoshi to be small would help, though. It's been two weeks since he's has a relaxing night as their little boy, even after all of Shouta's attempts to get him to drop before he left, and Hizashi has no doubt that it's contributing to the jam of anxiety, stress, and upset thrumming through the boy's veins.
“Let's take a deep breath, yeah?” He tries again, inhaling in a dramatic fashion that Hitoshi will, hopefully, imitate.
He doesn't, of course.
“Shut up about breathing already!” Hitoshi snaps, eyes filled with angry tears. His fists tighten at his sides until his knuckles turn white and his fingernails dig into his palms.
“Okay, okay, I'm sorry,” Hizashi searches deep into his reserve of talking down people from the edge. “How about you tell me what you want then? What can I do to help?”
Because he has no idea what to do– doesn't even know what Shouta would do in this situation. How can he call himself a father if he can't even handle this?
“Don't talk to me like I'm some– some villain keeping you hostage!” Hitoshi misinterprets his platacing tone, suddenly filled with betrayal.
“I didn't say you were,” Hizashi says quickly. “I just know that you're hurtin’, little listener, and I want to do something to help. I don't think you're a villain–”
Hitoshi slams another pointed kick against the back of the sofa, the strength training with Shouta really paying off as the couch slides forward and hits the kotatsu table in the middle of their living room. Hizashi tries not to wince at how he knows his hardwood floors are getting scratched up.
“Toshi-chan, I really need ya to cool your jets, kid.” Hizashi's voice levels to something far more serious than it had been before. “If you keep kickin’ things, you're gonna break something. Last thing we need is for that something to be your foot, yeah?”
Hitoshi scowls at him, a daring look. “Oh, I'm so sorry to inconvenience you, Sensei.”
Hizashi grimances. Hitoshi hasn't called him that since the first couple weeks since he moved in and Hizashi truly thought he'd never have to hear that title outside of school again. Hitoshi is trying to get under his skin– he knows that. It really is too bad it's kind of working.
“I never said you were an inconvenience– don't put words in my mouth.” Hizashi is quickly burning through his patience. “I just don't want you to get hurt, bud–”
“Yes, you do! You do, you do, you do!” Hitoshi stomps his foot and, despite having said earlier that he wanted Hitoshi to tilt into his headspace, Hizashi quickly finds that he regrets that line of thinking very much. Evidently, this is so much worse.
Hitoshi kicks the sofa again with a shout before turning back to Hizashi with tears streaming down his cheeks, chubby with youth and yet still sharpening with adulthood. “You’re lying! Just like Daddy! You're no hero! You're the villain– just like every other foster I have!”
Hitoshi grabs the closest thing he can, which happens to be a framed photograph of Shouta, Hizashi, and Hitoshi on the day they adopted him that lives on the end table next to the couch, and promptly throws it as hard as he can at the wall. It collides with a thud and a crash as the glass within the frame shatters and the frame, itself, clatters against the broken pieces on the floor.
For a moment, everything is silent as his next note sours in his mouth.
Hizashi remembers a time when he lacked any control of his quirk. He remembers the windows he would shatter, the ears he would bleed, the looks of pain and horror on everyone's faces when he laughed a little too loudly and sent room shaking. He remembers the way they would spit ‘villain’ at him, as if he were intentionally trying to hurt anyone.
He remembers being ten years old and years behind his peers in quirk development because he couldn't practice anywhere without destroying something– he had to stay away from them and be given special accommodations so he didn't accidentally kill anyone.
He remembers being fifteen years old and being the only person in his section of the entrance exam to pass because he leveled half of the fake city and everything inside it within seconds, causing most of the other examinees to quit on the spot.
He remembers being twenty years old as a fledgling hero working as a sidekick and trying to make a name of himself, only to be blocked by questions of how truly useful his quirk can be when it's so loud and all he can seem to do is collapse buildings and leave everyone around him in a state of agony.
He remembers being twenty-five years old and sobbing into his husband's arms the night before their wedding because of a hit piece that dropped over how he’s ‘transitioning to radio because someone with a quirk as useless and villainous as his isn't meant for hero work’. He remembers the way that Shouta held him and told him that his quirk was apart of him and that made it as beautiful as he was.
Hizashi is thirty-one years old and he has pushed past a lot of those memories, but he still remembers and the hurt from those memories cuts just as much as being compared to Hitoshi’s past abusers. It's easy to remember that Hitoshi doesn't mean it, that he's only looking to make everyone as upset as he is. It's easier to feel the overwhelm of dread and dismay that threatens to send him spiraling to the ground.
It's times like these where he is forced to confront the fact that he isn't as healed as he likes to pretend he is and that dealing with a child who has the exact same traumas as him is not something he is capable of dealing with, even on a good day. That's the real reason why he refuses to discipline him– why he can't be a parent.
Still, Hizashi is a hero, no matter what anyone has to say about it, and he knows better than to lash out at a little boy having a meltdown. It isn't his fault, not really. It's no one's fault.
“Okay,” Hizashi takes a deep, shuddering breath. “That's enough, Hitoshi. I know you're upset right now and you’re allowed to feel those feelings, but I'm not going to fight you anymore.”
Something drops in Hitoshi's expression– a devastating fear that has Hizashi nearly wavering in his decision.
“Here's what’s gonna happen, kiddo. I need you to step away from the glass and go put your nose in that corner.” Hizashi points to the living room corner furthest from the glass.
Part of him wants to put Hitoshi in his room to cry himself out and deal with it on his own. It wants Hizashi to be selfish and take the easy way out, letting him pretend even more that everything is okay. But he can't. He knows he can't because he also knows the thoughts currently plaguing his son, a lingering fear of abandonment that they can never seem to fully get rid of.
As triggered and upset as Hizashi currently is, he knows that locking Hitoshi away is the wrong move and he's strong enough to keep going– to keep trying.
“Ten minutes,” Hizashi decides. He sends Hitoshi an expectant look when the boy doesn't move, a deer in headlights. “I don't care if ya sit or stand but I need you facing that corner for ten minutes, get me?”
When Hitoshi still doesn't move a muscle, Hizashi steps forward. He's slow and keeps his hands at his sides, only lifting them slightly to steer Hitoshi in the direction he wants him to go. Hitoshi flinches at the contact and Hizashi doesn't let that sway him. Hitoshi can only know he won't be hurt if Hizashi proves it by not wavering and continuing with the gentle, yet stern, touch.
He tucks Hitoshi into the corner, his hands on the boy's shoulders. “Ten minutes,” Hizashi reminds him, maintaining the touch and keeping Hitoshi grounded. “I want you to use this time to calm down and think about your actions just now, ‘kay? I love you very much and that isn't going to change just because you’re playin’ poorly tonight.”
With each word, Hizashi's tone returns to the soft murmur. Bruised children don't heal from roughness and the twinge in Hizashi heart, fast beating and physically hurting with anxiety, is a firm reminder of that fact.
Hitoshi whimpers, already leagues calmer than he was now that he's been removed from that space, and his tears are no longer angry as they silently roll down his cheeks. Hizashi can be a bit of a pushover, he'll admit. He doesn't like feeling bad shit and he doesn't like dealing with confrontation. Between the choice of having a hard talk and letting bygones be bygones, he will always choose the latter and go on with his life pretending like everything is groovy.
It's Shouta that forces him to have the harder talks, to communicate and deal with problems when they arise, because for all the avoidance that man has for his own mental wellbeing, he'll be damned if Hizashi or their relationship suffers from something as irrational as refusing to face the music.
So, as much as Hizashi wants to kiss those tears off of Hitoshi's face and let him off the hook, he can't and he won't. It would be doing Hitoshi a disservice, and he needs the time to reset and truly understand the impact of his words– as much as he can in this state, anyways.
Hizashi ignores the way his throat burns with the urge to cry as Hitoshi's sobs bubble into being just loud enough to break his heart and sets a timer on his phone for ten minutes. He also puts on his radio station, leaving it playing as a low murmur throughout the apartment.
He uses every single one of those minutes to clean up the shards of glass on the floor, keeping his back to Hitoshi just in case the boy looks over at him. He doesn't need to see the way Hizashi's face is tightened with the hurt of memories he tries so hard to bury, or the way his eyes are creased with an exhaustion that longs for Shouta to come home and help him.
He breathes, holding each inhale for a couple seconds before he releases them and letting himself have a moment to himself. It would be better if he could do it alone, without a sad little boy singing the blues as a background track, but the very fact that they aren't trapped in a back and forth is already doing a lot to make him feel better.
By the time his timer goes off, Hizashi has swept up all the glass, safely disposed of it, and managed to calm himself down past the initial hurt and flood of associations that came with their fight. His chest is much looser and he's lost the burning need to cry, effectively clearing his head and deciding that he, too, really needed that break to reset.
Hitoshi is sitting on the ground, obediently tucked into the corner with his knees to his chest and his shoulders shaking in quiet sobs. Hizashi crouches down, resting his arms on his thighs, and speaks ever so softly.
“Timers up, Toshi-chan. You ready to talk about it?”
Hitoshi turns his head just enough to reveal his red rimmed eyes as he sniffles miserably. “Uh huh.”
“Uh huh,” Hitoshi repeats, cooing sympathetically. He doesn't really know where to go from here. He probably should've invested in some parenting books or something.
“‘m sorry,” Hitoshi warbles, making the choice for him. A fresh set of tears fills his lavender eyes and begins waterfalling down his flushed cheeks.
Hizashi slowly reaches up, pleased when Hitoshi doesn't flinch, and wipes them away. “Thank you for apologizing, little listener. Do ya know what you're sorry for?”
“I was mean,” Hitoshi sniffles and lets out another loud cry, guilt hitting him hard and fast. “And– and I hit the couch and I called you a villain and I called Daddy a liar and–”
Hitoshi’s voice breaks and his words come out a little too fast, collapsing in on themselves as his chest hitches painfully and he hiccups, trying and failing to get in proper mouthful of oxygen into his lungs.
Hizashi shushes him, humming along to the radio still playing in the background as he runs his fingers through Hitoshi's wild tufts of purple hair. “Good job, honey! That's exactly right.”
Hizashi doesn't want to tell him that it's okay yet– because it's not. None of those things are okay even on their own, let alone when they're all together. All he can do is continue petting Hitoshi as the boy cries, mumbling out his apologies.
“You were having a really rough time, honey,” Hizashi says, twisting his body to sit down with his back to the wall, his front facing Hitoshi. “And that doesn't make what you did okay, but I understand how hard it can be to control ourselves when everything feels so sucky.”
“Uh huh,” Hitoshi nods, bringing a fist up to rub his eye.
“Kicking the couch isn't allowed. You scared the kitties and you could've broken something or hurt yourself. I never wanna see you get hurt by something that could easily be avoided.”
Hitoshi leans into each of Hizashi's touches like a touch-starved kitten. He hums an affirmative every couple words, nodding along. He seems to be processing everything, despite the obvious fact that he's dropping lower and lower in his age bracket.
“And you really hurt my feelings when you said those things about Daddy and I,” Hizashi says. “I know you don't like it when other people call you a liar and villain. It's one of the most mean things you can say to people like us, ya feel me?”
Another wave of guilty tears. “I'm s-so sorry,” Hitoshi hiccups, leaning towards him and pressing the top of his head into Hizashi's chest. He doesn't move any more than that. “I just felt so mad and mean and I miss Daddy so much and everything hurt. I didn't– I didn't mean to say that you're like them. I know you're not.”
“I'm glad to hear that,” Hizashi hums, letting Hitoshi take the lead in how affectionate he wants to be, and settling a heavy hand on the back of his head. “I never wanna make you feel scared or like I'm going to hurt you.”
“You don't. I swear it,” Hitoshi says, the strongest his voice has been so far.
“Good.” The knot in Hizashi's chest loses the remainder of its tightness with that reassurance. He didn't realize how much he needed to hear that before now. “That's still a whole lotta things to be dealin’ with, little listener. What do you think we should do next time we feel all those yucky feelings?”
“Mmm, not gonna be mean and hit things.”
“Right, well,” Hizashi chuckles. “That's what you won't do. I wanna know what you will do.”
Hitoshi lifts his head a bit, looking hopelessly lost. “I… I dunno.”
“That's okay,” Hizashi soothes with a smile. “How about I go get us something to drink and we can brainstorm it together, yeah?”
Hitoshi has been crying for a while and he doesn't drink nearly enough even when he's big and not having meltdown after meltdown. Hizashi has no doubt that he's dehydrated and, if he doesn't already have one, he's about to be hit with a killer headache.
Without waiting for a response, Hizashi gently pushes Hitoshi off of him and goes to stand up. Immediately, hands shoot out to twist into Hizashi's shirt and Hitoshi lets out a panicked little noise, much like a wounded animal.
“Wait– wait, I'm sorry! Please don't go!” Hitoshi cries out, practically nailing Hizashi to the wall and knocking the wind out of him with how suddenly Hitoshi's entire body, packed with more muscle and fat on his bones than he had even a few months ago, collides into him. “‘m sorry, Momma, please! Don't leave me–”
Hizashi's moment of shock struggles to wear off and his brain is barely managing to spark to life, making a dial-up sound as he nearly blue-screens. Hizashi doesn't know what to address first– the way that his son is terrified of being left behind or the way that he just sobbed out for a mother that he never had. Is Hizashi meant to be Momma? Or is Hitoshi having a flashback of a foster mother? Or is this something new entirely?
Hitoshi weeps into his chest, choking on gasps of ’Momma’ and ’please don't leave me’ that leave Hizashi having to assume that his initial assumption was correct– Hitoshi is calling him Momma.
Confusion and confliction sing a duet within him as he goes through an array of emotions. On one hand, he's honored and so, so warmed by the fact that Hitoshi has finally given him a parental title, even if it is only while he's really small. On the other, he always assumed it would be Papa or Dad or literally anything other than what it is. He doesn't know if this new name is meant to be reflective of him and the frankly flamboyant way that he flaunts himself, both as Present Mic and not, or if it's more telling to Hitoshi, showcasing a hidden yearning for the loving biological family that had been taken from.
That might have to be something they discuss later, when Hitoshi is bigger and able to understand the ramifications of calling one of his gay dads by something maternal, but, for now, Hizashi has a lap full of little boy and a heart bursting with adoration.
“Shh, sweetheart, it's okay.” Hizashi murmurs, adjusting them so that Hitoshi is sat more comfortably in his lap and can settle within Hizashi's arms. “It's okay, I'm not going anywhere. Momma's here.”
Huh.
He figured that would feel way weirder to say.
Maybe this is the result of over a decade of friendship with Nemuri, who calls him and Shouta everything under the sun for the hell of it, but Hizashi doesn't hate the way it sounds, or the feeling of fondness that threatens to explode inside his ribcage like an overblown balloon.
Hitoshi rubs his face against the crook of Hizashi's neck, letting out distressed little baby hums as he clings even tighter, trying to morph them together into a blob of a cuddles. “Mmm, Momma…”
“I know, I know,” Hizashi curls around him, grateful that Hitoshi has yet to pass him in height despite how his lanky form seems to never stop growing. “You're safe, honey. I promise.”
“I– I really am sorry.” Hitoshi mumbles. He calms down significantly when he realizes that Hizashi isn't leaving.
Hizashi kisses the crown of his head. “I know, baby. It's alright, I forgive you.”
And he does.
There isn't a world where Hizashi doesn't forgive him, especially not after the way that Hitoshi shudders and melts in his hold, desperate for the comfort and security that only his parents can provide him. It's healing, in its own way, after spending months knowing that Hizashi was always the second choice, the playlist that you play occasionally when you're in the mood for it but really just leave untouched for most of the year.
Hizashi knows that there are probably better ways to handle this– knows that Shouta likely wouldn't have let it get to this point at all– but relief and pride and love fill him as steadily as his hold on Hitoshi. He did it. Even if it wasn't perfect, even if it got worse before it got better, he still did it.
He disciplined his son and he thinks they came out stronger because of it.
Hizashi will have to make sure that Shouta knows about what happened, and that he gets his own separate apology that he absolutely deserves, but that can wait until later. For now, Hizashi lets himself sit in the warmth of knowing that, even through his own issues and unrelenting anger, Hitoshi loves him and sees him as a real parent– as his Momma.