Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What do you mean you don’t have a quirk, Zuku?” the blond asked, his tone surprisingly shaky. His mouth fell open, eyes wide, and he shuffled back a step as if the words physically hurt.

In that moment, it was like an icy hand reached through Izuku’s ribcage and wrapped tightly around his heart. He couldn’t breathe.

𝙾𝚑 𝙺𝚊𝚖𝚒! 𝙷𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎! 𝚆𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚎?!

When all of a sudden-

“—Such a stupid dummy if you think for even a second this is gonna stop us from being the best heroes ever!” Katsuki screeched, his voice booming, sharp, and raw. He glared at Izuku—then, just as suddenly, he launched at him.

“Ka-Kacchan, wha—” Izuku began, but was quickly cut off by the sniffling blond, now hugging a stunned and confused Izuku so tightly he could barely move.

“Stupid,” Katsuki muttered, letting go with a loud sniff and wiping at his face in a harsh, almost angry motion.

Izuku for his part clung back to Katsuki’s sleeve like a lifeline, tears streaming down his red, puffy cheeks. They wouldn’t stop, his whole face was a mess, but somehow, he didn’t care as he held his friend close.

After that day, everything changed.

Inko grew more protective, more controlling. Her fear over Izuku’s future without a quirk warped into suffocating micromanagement. Katsuki, on the other hand, started standing up for him. Against bullies. Even against teachers.

It became the two of them against the world.

And they wanted to keep it that way.

Until the first day of their second year in middle school.




The sun had barely risen, yet it was already merciless—beating down on the earth like it had a grudge. Inside the classroom, the air was thick and stifling, the long-sleeved uniforms clinging to their sweaty skin.

𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚜? 𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢..

As they were settling into their assigned seats, the room fell silent when Mr. Junpei walked in, his posture stiff and face tight.

“Listen up, everyone—” he began, scribbling something on the board before exhaling sharply through his nose.

When he stepped aside, the name “Yamazawa Hitoshi” was written in big, blocky letters.

“We’ll be having a new student starting this year,” he said. And just like that, the class erupted into chaos- shouting over each other, throwing out opinions no one asked for. The noise died quickly, though, as Mr. Junpei raised his hand and narrowed his eyes.

“Before he arrives from the principal’s office,” the teacher added, “there’s something I want to warn you all about.”

He took a moment, then sighed heavily, disappointment settling deep into his features.

“It’s come to my attention that the boy has a rather...dangerous quirk.”

The murmurs returned - low, uneasy - but hushed again when the teacher cleared his throat.

“That being said, you kids should be careful,” he concluded, pressing his lips into a thin line.

Right then, a slow series of knocks echoed through the room.

And after a quiet, “Come in,” the heavy wooden door creaked open.

A tall boy with messy indigo hair stepped into the room, his expression unreadable. The silence that followed was absolute.

“Welcome, Yamazawa. Would you be so kind as to introduce yourself?” Mr. Junpei asked stiffly, trying - and failing - to appear calm.

𝚀𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚘𝚝  Bakugo thought, eyes narrowed as he continues to watch the scene.

"Uh- I'm Yamazawa Hitoshi?" the new student said uncertainly. He scratched the back of his neck, eyes on the floor, and clutched his backpack strap like a lifeline.

𝚂𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚛, 𝚜𝚘 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍…

Until someone from the back shouted, “What’s your quirk?”

Another chimed in, “Yeah, Yamazawa—what’s your quirk?”

The kid who asked was already smirking like he knew it was something bad.

𝙲𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚍! 𝙶𝚘𝚍-𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗-𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝚒𝚝, 𝙸 𝚓𝚒𝚗𝚡𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝.

“…Brainwashing,” Hitoshi muttered. It was quiet - barely above a whisper - but it hit like a thunderclap. The room fell into a thick, acidic silence.

Then—

“Whoa, that’s so cool,” someone whispered.

Hitoshi’s eyes snapped toward the voice just as a blonde guy snorted beside the freckled one.

“Midoriya!” the teacher snapped, glaring at the green-haired boy.

A startled yelp came from Izuku’s seat, followed by an unmistakable growl: “Shut the hell up, old man!” from Bakugo.

It didn’t go smoothly. But it could’ve gone worse.

𝙰𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝..𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝.

The others?

𝚈𝚎𝚊𝚑. 𝙽𝚘.

After a painful few minutes of awkward seating arrangements, Hitoshi ended up between Bakugo and Midoriya. The first hour dragged by. He kept his head down.

And then, just as the bell rang, Midoriya and Bakugo stood up - and made their way straight to his desk.

𝙾𝚑 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔. 𝚆𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖? 𝚆𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚜?

Panic crept up his spine. His chest tightened. Limbs tingled uncomfortably as his legs twitched under the desk, itching to bolt.

𝙳𝚒𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢?

“Oi, eyebags!” Bakugo shouted, waving a hand in his face.

The sudden movement shocked Hitoshi out of his spiraling thoughts.

“Don’t mind him, Yamazawa-kun. He’s an ass on his best days,” Izuku said with a snicker, shoving Bakugo’s hand away.

“But really..are you alright?” he added, rubbing his cheek nervously and glancing anywhere but at Hitoshi.

What in the actual hell is happening?

“I—wha—uhm..pardon?” Hitoshi stammered. His jaw might’ve been on the floor. He was not prepared for this.

“You looked like you were about to sprint out of here,” Izuku said softly. “Are you okay?”

𝙾𝚏-𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐-𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚐𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢. 𝙳𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝?

“OI!”

A pop echoed - small, but loud enough to make him jump.

𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔.

“S-Sorry,” Hitoshi muttered. “Could you..repeat that?”

Midoriya blinked, then smiled sheepishly.

“I was asking if you wanted to have lunch with us..maybe?”

He looked genuinely nervous. And yet - he was looking him in the eyes. No cruelty there. No mocking.

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚓𝚘𝚔𝚎.

𝙳𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚒𝚝?

“..Why?” Hitoshi asked, narrowing his eyes, voice low.

“You seem nice,” Midoriya replied kindly. After a beat..

“As nice as a corpse can get,” Bakugo muttered under his breath.

“-and we’d love to be friends,” Izuku added, playfully glaring at Bakugo, who raised both hands in mock surrender.

Hitoshi stared at them. M𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎..𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚢. 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎? 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎. 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎?

𝙷𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐..𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕.

With a deep breath in -

“..Sure.”

- and out, he nodded, clutching his lunchbox tight as he stood up and followed them.

Will I regret this?

M𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎.

But for the first time in a long time… it didn’t feel like he was that alone.

Chapter Text

As they sat on the warm, gently waving grass, hidden safely beneath the thick, flowering blossom tree, a light breeze danced across their skin like a whisper. It was peaceful—the kind of peace none of them were used to.

In comfortable silence, the boys began opening their lunch boxes.

"Aww, that’s such a cute lunch box, Yamazawa!" Izuku chirped suddenly, his eyes sparkling with genuine admiration as he grinned widely.

"I- I, uh..thanks," Hitoshi stuttered, ears and cheeks flushing a deep red as he stared anywhere but at Izuku.

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐..

"Don’t mind this fucker," Bakugo muttered, half-heartedly shoving Izuku to the side. "He gets excited talking to literally anyone. The idiot doesn’t mean to make you uncomfortable." His voice was laced with familiar snark as he flicked Izuku’s forehead, momentarily shifting his green hair into a patch of sunlight.

Then, turning to Hitoshi with a casual glance, Bakugo tilted his head.

"Say- you planning on becoming a pro?"

"Yeah…" Hitoshi replied slowly, grimacing slightly. He rubbed the back of his neck and took small, distracted bites of his food. 𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜. 𝙸𝚝’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜…

"That’s awesome!" Izuku said, beaming. "We should totally train together!" He bit into an apple Bakugo had casually passed him.

"Sure…" Hitoshi murmured, then blinked. 𝚆𝚊𝚒𝚝..𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝?

He had agreed before his brain could even catch up..

𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘?

Hitoshi pursed his lips in thought, then gave his head a little shake. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛.


The rest of the day passed in a blur of sameness: boring classes, quiet eye contact across desks, and post-lunch conversations beneath the blossom tree when it was free. If not, they lingered in the classroom instead, talking about quirks and heroes and anything that felt even a little bit real.

To Hitoshi’s surprise, they became fast friends—training together on weekends, hanging out after school, and slowly forming a bond that none of them had expected, but all of them needed.

Well… everything was great.

Except for Inko Midoriya’s overbearing behavior.

And the occasional bullies who still thought it was fun to pick on Izuku and Hitoshi.

Until one day..



“The hell have you done, brat?” Mitsuki Bakugo snapped, storming into the principal’s office. Her voice was loud enough to shake the windows, her breath wheezy from sprinting.

Katsuki snarled back without missing a beat.

“They fucking deserved it!”

His fists clenched and unclenched as he glared up at his mother, his bright red eyes wide with fury.

“That’s not what your mother asked, son,” Masaru Bakugo said mildly, clearly amused, watching them like it was his favorite sitcom.

Before Katsuki could spit another comeback, the door opened.

“Inko! It’s been so long!” Mitsuki chirped, instantly shifting gears. She hugged her friend tightly, then grabbed Izuku in a quick, slightly bone-crushing hug. “Hi, Izuku! What have you been up to-”

She stopped short as Hitoshi and his parents entered.

“Oh, hi dear!” Mitsuki said to Hitoshi, raising a brow. “You're another little troublemaker, huh?” she teased, ruffling his hair before turning her attention to the adults.

“Hello there! I’m Mitsuki, and this is Masaru, we’re Katsuki’s parents,” she said cheerfully, extending her hand. “And that’s Inko, sweet Izuku’s mother.”

Midoriya Inko offered a tight smile and a small wave, while Hitoshi’s parents stepped forward.

“Yo! Glad to meet you all!” said the tall, loud man, shaking Mitsuki’s hand with ease. “I’m Hizashi and this grump here is Shota,” he added, pointing his thumb toward the more reserved man beside him.

Once the greetings died down, Masaru turned toward the boys with a raised brow.

"Alright, can any of you tell us why we’re here?”

Katsuki scowled. “Well, if you hadn’t interrupted me with all that pointless greeting crap, you’d already have your answer,” he muttered.

With one sharp look from his father, Katsuki groaned and continued.

“Some jackasses tried to beat the shit out of these two idiots,” he snapped, jerking his thumb toward Izuku and Hitoshi - both of whom were now wide-eyed with embarrassment. “So I beat the crap outta those discriminatory assholes.”

The silence was instant. Thick. Tense.



And then they were called in.


“I apologize for the short notice,” said Mr. Gudetama, the principal, in a flat, monotone voice. He leaned back in his chair, posture loose, expression unreadable.

𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕, Bakugo noted to himself with disgust.

“But I needed to speak with you all urgently.”

He smiled - tight-lipped, fake - and gestured vaguely around the room.

“Today, your sons caused a fight that resulted in several other students getting injured.”

A loud gasp echoed. No one acknowledged it.

“Their parents have requested disciplinary action. In fact-”

"What the fuck,” muttered Aizawa, sitting up straight against the wall, his previously blank expression now steeped in irritation.

𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐?

“With all due respect, Mr. Gudetama, that’s just..stupid” said Masaru, sighing. His voice was calm, but his jaw clenched hard enough to creak.

The other adults nodded stiffly, almost like malfunctioning robots.

Meanwhile, the teens exchanged glances. They knew exactly where this was going and they didn't like it one bit.

“As I was saying,” the principal continued, completely ignoring the interruption, “this is unacceptable behavior. Therefore, all three boys will be suspended for two weeks.”

Stunned silence fell over the room.

They were only defending themselves!

Izuku could feel heat crawl up his neck, dry mouth sticking shut. His ears rang, his hands clenched.

And then he snapped.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” he muttered, voice low, angry, and shaking.

Inko gasped, hand flying to her mouth. “Izuku!” she cried, horrified.

Mr. Gudetama’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

Laughter broke out from the rest of the adults -snorts, chuckles, even a quiet “he’s not wrong.”

“This is unacceptable!” barked the now red-faced principal.

“What do you even teach your child, Miss Midoriya?!”

Inko blinked, clearly overwhelmed. Then, in a flurry of panic: “I truly don’t know where he learned those foul words from! I deeply apologize!” she stammered, waving her hands, face burning with embarrassment as she glared down at her son.

An awkward silence settled again, like dust on old books.

“If there’s nothing else,” Mr. Gudetama said coolly, adjusting his collar with a flick of his wrist, “I’ll see your sons in exactly two weeks.”

Dismissed.

Chapter Text

After that meeting, and a very uncomfortable ride home on Izuku's part, the boys began to talk.

Group chat :   Katsuki, Hitoshi,  Izuku

Hitoshi 12:02 : so like- are y'all still alive or..?

Katsuki 12:04 : fuck yeah, just finished talking with the old hag .
 
Izuku 12:05 : my ears are still ringing from the long ass talk mom gave me 'bout the whole 'that's BS' thing.

Katsuki 12:06 : mood, anything else other than aunty bitching about everything?

Hitoshi 12:06 : ^ Y’all wanna meet at our spot to train or what?

Izuku 12:06 : YESSS!! HITO UR AMAZING! I'M TELLING U IF I HAD TO STAY IN THIS HOUSEHOLD ONE MORE MINUTE I'D-

Katsuki 12:07 : Why tf not, meet y'all losers in like one hour

Izuku 12:07 : We love you too Kacchann <3

Hitoshi 12:07 : Ew Kat-germs, talk for urself, Zuku.

Katsuki 12:10 :  Go fuck yourselves, idiots.

Shinso 12:11 : Such a kinky idea, you naughty, naughty boy. We gotta tell aunty ur gettin' into some weird stuff for sure.

Katsuki 12:11 : I'M GONNA KILL YOU EYEBAGS

Hitoshi 12:12 : Pump those brakes, buttercup, we don't want auntie to put ya on a leash, do we?

Katsuki 12:12 : SHUT THE FUCK UP, IDIOT!

Hitoshi 12:13 : my bad doggie. Forgot about ur fetishes-

Bakugo 12:13 : Ur so goddamn dead in one hour.

Hitoshi 12:13 : bad chihuahua!

Katsuki 12:13 : I SWEAR, THIS HOUSE IS A GODDAMN NIGHTMARE!!

Hitoshi 12:14 : Aww, such sweet words. Thank you good pup!

Izuku 12:20 : I was about to say that i'll be a jiffy late, but i see y'all had fun without me- I'm wounded-

Hitoshi 12:21 : We deeply apologise, oh so mighty sunny god-

Katsuki 12:22 : Speak for urself, fucker

Hitoshi 12:23 : You peasant! Bow in front of his majesty this instant!

Katsuki 12:24 : Nah, i think you do that enough for the both of us-

Hitoshi 12:24 : Well damn- wouldn't you like to see that~

Izuku 12:24 : GUYS! Stop joking around and start getting ready!

Hitoshi 12:25 : Yes dad-

Katsuki 12:25 : That's daddy for you, eyebags-

Hitoshi 12:25 : My bad, my bad.

Izuku 12:28 : GUYS!




Once Izuku arrived, he stopped abruptly in the doorway, eyes glinting with mischief.

Across the dusty floor of the abandoned building, Katsuki was chasing Hitoshi in circles, hurling creative curses as Hitoshi wheezed with laughter. It looked like a scene from a particularly chaotic movie.

Without missing a beat, Izuku whipped out his phone and started recording, trying - and failing - to muffle his giggles.

After about a minute of chaos, Katsuki lunged forward and outright tackled Hitoshi. They both hit the floor with a thud - Katsuki landing squarely on top of Hitoshi, who now laid pinned beneath him.

Hitoshi stared up at him with a deadpan expression and said, “Wow. If you wanted to pin me down, you could’ve just asked.”

His words echoed through the empty room before the two broke into loud laughter, sprawled on the floor like the feral middle schoolers they were.

From across the room, Izuku snickered quietly, then sent the video straight into their newly made group chat.

Group chat :   Katsuki, Hitoshi, Izuku, Hizashi, Shota, Mitsuki, Masaru,


Izuku 13:40 : sended a video.


Hizashi 13:42 : Aww! Look at those cute babies havin' funn!

Shota 13:43 : all i can see is two kids playing in rubbish. I pity the washing machine.

Mitsuki 13:43 : AWW, this takes me back to when they used to come home covered in mud after their silly trainings.

Shota 13:44 : The horrors continued for days.

Masaru 13:44 : indeed they did.

Hizashi 13:44 : C'mon guys, stop being party poopers!

Mitsuki 13:44 : ^ So true! ^





Back in the building, Izuku lowered his phone, a big, goofy smile on his face, though it dimmed just a bit as his thoughts drifted.

𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍'𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜...

𝚆𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝙸 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚎?

𝚆𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖?

His thoughts spiraled, soft and uncertain.

Then -

Thud

Suddenly, he was on the ground in a tangle of limbs.

“Eek?!”

Blinking up, Izuku found Hitoshi draped across him like a lazy cat and Katsuki standing over them, flicking his nose.

“Eyo,” Hitoshi mumbled, tone tired. “Your mind shouldn’t wander when you’re outside. That’s dangerous, y’know?”

He said it like a warning, though he clearly knew he did the exact same thing.

Katsuki rolled his eyes and ruffled both boys’ hair, making their messy hairs even worse. “You two are idiots. Get the hell up before you catch a cold. Let’s go train.”

He grabbed the back of their t-shirts and hauled them up toward the mats like they weighed nothing.

“Stupid idiots and their stupid overthinking…” he muttered under his breath. “Makin’ me worry. So annoying.”

But the warmth in his voice betrayed him - even as he shoved them both into sparring position -

After hours of training, or as Hitoshi would like to point out

"an excuse for Kat to beat the hell out of them"

They were finally done.

"Hooray! We survived!” Izuku mumbled dramatically, sprawled on the floor. “I’m becoming one with the earth…” he added, snuggling into the dusty floor like it was a mattress.

'Barely' mutters Hitoshi as he takes big gulps of water before grabbing Izuku and plopping him on top of his legs in a tangle of limbs, trying to keep the boy off the dirty floor.

“Stop whining,” Katsuki snapped, stretching. Then, softer than usual: “If you two really wanna get ready for the U.A. physical exam, this is nothing.”
He paused, glancing at them before adding, “You know you dumbasses can’t afford to focus on anything but your bodies right now.”

That silenced them.

The mood dropped, both boys looking away, eyes shadowed for slightly different reasons.

Katsuki clicked his tongue and crouched in front of them, flicking their foreheads. “Oi. Idiots.”

They looked up.

“We’re gonna be the best goddamn heroes ever,” he said, voice fierce. “The world can fuck right off. Got it?”

Their eyes locked.

And suddenly, something ignited behind them -fire, maybe. Or something deeper. Determination. Hope. Defiance.

They needed to train.

They would train.

They’d take the whole world by surprise. Shake it to its core.

They’d leave the quirkist assholes in their dust - because they would succeed, even when no one believed in them

Together, they could be heroes.

Together, they just might change the views of people and the world.

Chapter Text

All this sounds like a nightmare to the Yamazawa family, yet it sadly happened, its Hitoshi's past, but that doesn't mean it should define him, it shouldn't mean it dictates what he does or how he acts in his future..it only means it happened..



His shaky hands clutched tightly a worn-out plush of the known Voice hero, Present Mic as he ran.

'𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎..'

thinks the boy as his dirty lavender locks whipped wildly behind him in the wind as he ran.

'𝙰𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎..'

Adrenaline powered his every step as he darted from alley to alley, each one darker than the last. His heart pounded so loudly it felt like it just might explode.

'𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎..'

The bloodied steel mask, tight and painful, combined with various injuries, made it hard to breathe - but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop, not even for a second.

'𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚖𝚎..'

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

After months trapped in that awful place, he had finally escaped. He never looked back - only forward,

His legs carried him, bare feet slapping against cold pavement like thunderclaps, raw from gravel and glass.

Tears blurred his vision, dripping freely down his cheeks no matter how fiercely he wiped at them. Still, he ran.


Until he slammed into something.

The force knocked him back, landing on his butt. Wide-eyed, he looked up. His whole body trembled, a mix of fear, exhaustion, and pain overtaking him.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

'Yes Sho, i remembered  getting the milk' Hizashi huffed a laugh, phone tucked between his cheek and shoulder as he strolled through a shortcut home, bag of groceries swinging in one hand.

He was a little late - last-minute dinner run - but nothing unusual.

Playfully bickering with his husband, he barely noticed the world around him—until something small and solid collided into his legs.


He stumbled back a step, blinking in shock. As he looked down, his breath caught in his throat.

The sight would haunt his nightmares.

A tiny child laid sprawled on the pavement, looking up with wide, terrified purple eyes.

He had lavender, matted hair. His face was streaked with tears, red and raw. A steel mask — clearly made for a dog — was strapped too tightly to his small face, pressing into his skin and leaving angry red marks.

His shirt was tattered, barely holding together. His legs were bare, covered in fresh wounds and old scars. And he was barefoot.
The child clutched a worn-out plushie like it was his lifeline, like he would break without that source of comfort.

When he let out a small, broken sound - halfway between a whimper and a sob - the blonde man snapped out of his shock.

He quickly muttered, "I’ll call you later," to his husband and ended the call, not even registering the worried shouts from the other end.

Kneeling beside the boy, he spoke softly, voice barely above a whisper as his heart pounded in his throat.

“Hey there, little listener.”

The toddler froze.

He only stared as more tears slipped down his cheeks, and his tiny hands clung even harder to the plush, fingers digging in with fear.

Yamada, even as his heart clenched at the sight before him, knew he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. He drew in a slow breath, eyes flicking briefly to the steel mask strapped to the toddler’s face

𝙰 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚎.

𝙰 𝚝𝚘𝚘-𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎.

𝙷𝚎 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛..

Dark memories surged up like crashing waves - his own past, his own experience at the hand of an all too identical muzzle flashing before his eyes.

𝙵𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜, 𝚈𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚊! he snapped internally, shaking off the rising tide.

With a soft, steady voice, he offered a gentle smile and said,

'That's a nice plush you got there, little listener'

He pointed to the worn Present Mic plush clutched in the boy’s trembling arms as he gently asked.

'is he you favorite hero?'

Yamada lowered himself onto the pavement slowly, not giving a damn about the dirt staining his pants. His focus was on the child. on the fear behind those purple eyes.

The toddler stared back, still frozen, still shaking. But then - hesitantly - he gave the smallest of nods.

Just a twitch of the head. But it was something.

A flicker.

A spark.

Buried beneath the terror, Yamada saw it..a tiny light.

A hope not quite extinguished yet.

He held onto that, his smile widening just a bit, not to force anything, but to offer safety.