Work Text:
Izuku frowns, looking at the coins in his hand, then up at the bakery display. He sighs, before turning away. His stomach growls, but he ignores it, instead heading back home.
Well, home was a strong word. More like…place of residence.
He slips through the alleyways, dodging stray cats and suspicious puddles, eventually ending up at his place of residence—a beach turned illegal dumping ground. He worms his way through heaps of trash until he reaches small clearing where he had set up his stuff.
On one side there was half a door placed on top of two broken filing cabinets for a desk, an office chair missing an armrest in front of it. Across form it were piles and boxes of various items; nuts, bolts, screws, nails, plastic, silverware, scrap metal, soda and beer cans, glass bottles—anything and everything he could possibly sell to recycling plants or support companies. In between them was a makeshift shelter made of scraps of metal paneling, a tarp nailed to one side as a door. Finally, hiding in the shelter, there was a safe with a built in (broken) lock, which he had simply locked again with a padlock.
It was there he headed, pulling the necklace he kept the key on out from under his shirt and unlocking the padlock. On the inside of the safe was where he put his second-most precious item; his money. He places the coins inside and locks it up again, before flopping down on the pile of ratty blankets that served as his bed. He grabs the other item on his necklace, a locket with a picture of him as a four year old in an All Might onesie, being held by his mother. His father, who was standing beside them, had his face scribbled out. (Izuku had done that as soon as he could.)
Tucking the necklace back under his shirt, izuku stands back up, walking over to his battered yellow backpack and pulling out a library book. He set it on the cleanest surface around, his desk, which he covered with a tarp to keep it clean specifically for this purpose, and pulled out a note book and pencil.
He still had trouble with some words, especially in kanji, but the best (and only) way he could learn was practicing. His method was to pick up a book that looked interesting from the library, read it and write down characters he didn’t know or had trouble with, and look up the characters the next time he was at the library. He had an entire notebook dedicated to writing down the characters and what they meant and were used for, as well as one for math, and one (several) for analysis.
Opening the book, he began to read.
☆ ☆ ☆
Izuku was jolted out of his study session by the sounds of a fight. He grabbed his analysis notebook and ran towards the noise, watching from the edge of the crowd. To his surprise, it wasn’t just a street brawl, but a hero fight. Not only that, but the hero was All Might! Except, he was wearing civilian clothing. A white t-shit and green cargo pants.
As izuku watched, all might delivered the final blow, before slapping handcuffs on the villain and handing them over to the police. Izuku sighed; he didn’t get there in time to analyze anything. Well, it wasn’t the end of the world; he had bigger things to worry about. Like studying.
Turning back towards his place of residence, he began walking.
He had just gotten back to studying when a shadow passed over him, smaller and much faster than a cloud. Izuku looked up just in time to see all might landing nearby, disappearing behind piles of garbage.
Izuku grabbed his analysis notebook once more and broke into a run.
☆ ☆ ☆
Toshinori sighed, letting One For All flow out of his grasp and transforming him into his true form. He was about to walk away when he heard a small gasp. Whirling around, he scanned the piles of garbage, eyes landing on a tuft of green hair sticking out from behind a trash heap. He started towards it, the green disappearing as soon as he did, but toshinori kept advancing. He couldn’t let his secret get out.
However, what he found on the other side was not a nosy reporter, but a small, cowering child. They were dirty, covered in filth, their clothes ragged and too small, hair tangled and greasy. Toshinori pegged them to be around 10 years old, thought that was on the high end, considering how short they were. Although the ribs showing through their skin clearly pointed towards malnutrition, possibly stunting their growth?
Not the time! He needed to help this child.
Kneeling down, toshinori pulled a protein bar out of his pocket and set it on the ground, scooting back a few paces. The child eyed it, then him, and then darted forwards, snatching it up and retreating. Toshinori smiled.
“Do you want more?” The child nodded furiously, and toshinori pulled out another one.
☆ ☆ ☆
Naomasa frowned. Toshinori was late to lunch, and he hadn’t been on the news since this morning. He was about to call when the door dinged, signaling a new customer to the American-style diner. Naomasa looked up, spotting Toshinori walking with a kid. He waved, before stopping mid swing.
Toshinori was walking with a kid.
A kid.
Why the fuck did he have a kid? Where did he find a kid? Nao had so many questions, but toshinori simply nodded to the child and mouthed ‘later.’ Naomasa sighed, but nodded back. The two sat down, and toshinori handed the kid a menu.
“Get anything you like.” The kid frowned, muttering to himself as he read.
“Um, whatever’s the least expensive…” he said finally. Toshinori shook his head.
“Nonsense. I make plenty of money; i don’t know what to do with half of it.” He smiled, and the kid nodded reluctantly, before pointing to a child’s serving of pancakes.
When the food got there, the kid’s eyes practically sparkled, and he ate so fast that Toshinori had to remind him to slow down several times. Soon, they were done, and they headed back to Toshinori’s apartment, Naomasa tagging along.
The train ride was rather short, but the kid still fell asleep, and Toshinori ended up carrying him to the couch, where he set the kid down and tucked him in.
Naomasa and Toshinori sat in the living room, and Toshinori explained.
“So, what do you plan to do with him?” Naomasa asked after he was done. Toshinori sighed.
“I don’t know. I know i can’t take care of him, he’s too young and I’m too much of a target. If he was older and a bit less touch starved, maybe, but he needs attention and safety that i can’t provide. But, he seems rather attached to me, so i don’t want to leave him. He might think I’m abandoning him like his father. On top of that, he’s quirkless, so i don’t want him in the system.” Naomasa nodded.
“I agree. And i might have a solution, at least for a while.”
☆ ☆ ☆
Shota entered the precinct, heading to the offices in the back. Tsukauchi had called him in for a favor, and shota was not looking forward to it. He entered the office, spotting a skeletal man with golden hair sitting on a couch next to small, green haired child, with the detective at his desk, drinking his coffee as he looked at paperwork.
Shota cleared his throat, startling the golden haired man. The kid just turned to look at him with calculating eyes, and Naomasa simply glanced up from his paperwork, motioning for shota to have a seat.
“Thank you for coming, aizawa.” Shota frowned. If this was a work matter, it would be Eraserhead. The use of his real name meant that this was personal business.
“Cut to the chase, detective.”
“To make a long story short, would you and your husband like a child?”