Archive of Our Own ^beta

For: CatBongo (Cat)

**

In all actuality, Naomasa shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was to receive a text message at five thirty-five in the morning.

For starters, he was awake. Not just awake, mind you, but awake and at work. And, given his line of work, these types of messages and inquiries at ungodly hours weren't so unusual. He'd often gotten a missive or two in the pre-dawn mornings, usually from Sansa or another agent or officer on duty, and usually during those busier evenings when villain attacks were high. It wasn’t so out of the norm to have his phone buzz, calling for his attention. 

And yet…

The man narrowed his eyes at the offensive device and considered, brows drawing together in consternation and confusion. 

And yet, today it kind of was out of the norm. 

Today things were somewhat slow by way of villain attacks and cases to manage (not that there weren’t meaningful things to do, hence why he was still here, at the office, wiling away his time). There wasn’t the need for him to receive a message on his phone, no need to call for his attention, hence why he’d hardly gotten a few pings on his device to begin with. 

And what few pings he had gotten, he’d gotten earlier in the evening. It’d been many hours, actually, since anyone had bothered him with a message. 

So, it must be important to harass him now. 

Right? 

With a tired gaze that flickered, briefly, towards the window, noting the dark skies and lingering nightscape across the city street outside his office, the detective couldn’t deny the trill of concern that zipped through him at the buzzing of his phone across his desk. 

That was twice now that it had pinged. 

Two messages. 

Now, it was a short list of people who not only knew his number but knew his schedule as well. 

For others to receive a message at this hour would be met with silence and a general ignorance towards the message until a later time, when the skies were lighter, the sun risen, the world awake. 

But for him? 

Well…

Someone had to where he’d be, and what he’d be doing. 

Someone had to know him quite well, indeed. 

Naomasa tossed his hat across the room, to the vacant chair normally reserved for colleagues or inquiring parties on a case (though there was no way in hell anyone besides him would be here at this hour, Sansa having gone home a few hours prior), running a hand over his stinging eyes  before he let a heavy hand curl around the sleek, black device sitting precariously atop a few innocuous manila folders vying for his attention. 

Too many cases, never enough time. 

But it was always like that, unfortunately, hence why he was still here, still working. 

‘Always working’ as his sister said.  

With a careful flick of his fingers across the screen, Naomasa frowned at Nezu’s name blazing against the backlight.

‘Huh.’  

This was…odd.

True he shouldn’t have been surprised that someone would have the gall to contact him this early.

He just never expected it to be Nezu of all his acquaintances.  

“What the hell could he want?” 

The detective ran a hand over his tired eyes before hazarding a quick readthrough of the message, a clipped thing that bulleted straight to the heart of the issue that the principal was dealing with. 

And…

The man frowned, eyes flashing as he sat straighter. 

Oh.

That was important, he realized, a spark of attentiveness renewed in his posture as he leaned his elbows onto his desk and reached for his pen, pushing his phone to call the UA Principal rather than waste time with a text conversation. 

“Hello, Naomasa! Always a delight to hear from you.” A cheerful remark echoed into his ear within one ring, and the detective only shook his head, letting a wry smile fall onto his lips as he considered that Nezu was waiting all along for this to happen. 

The bastard. 

But now, it was time to get down to the issue at hand, one he’d only been privy to within the last few days thanks to Toshinori and Nezu’s messages and notes. 

It hadn’t been his most important case in his files, at least not for him initially. But now, with Nezu messaging? The man tapped his pen against the paper, his foot gently bouncing in that agitated way when he started to think that things were a bit worse than he’d first supposed…

“You think it was that bad?” Naomasa murmured quietly into the receiver, not bothering to rehash what’d already been stated. He knew Nezu would understand. “To warrant this type of an investigation? You really think it’s at that level?”

There was only a brief pause, long enough for Naomasa’s pen to halt its light tapping. 

“I wouldn’t have messaged otherwise, Naomasa.” The man could almost hear the smile in Nezu’s reply as he shook his head again, considering the implications of this investigation and what it was going to do.    

‘Well, shit.’ 

This was ridiculous. 

Shouta knew it was ridiculous. Everything about the whole situation was so damned, ridiculously annoying, agitating him to no end, setting him on edge.  

This was a holiday season, a time for relaxation and an easing away from the tedium and stressors of the day to day that he normally experienced while working at UA and as an underground hero. 

Not that those still didn’t exist, mind you. Of course they did. 

It was just that the holidays ought to bring with them a sense of ease, in theory, and help balance things out a little more so the man actually felt rested for once rather than like he was cavorting with this agitation that seemed keen to eat at him, provoking him and pushing him to seek answers.  

But apparently, that wasn’t the case at all. The man wasn’t bound to be so lucky.

“Come on, Shou, you’re too distracted! That’s no fun.” 

And Shouta was distracted, dammit it all. He knew he was....

With a grunt, blinking to steady his vision and focus his attention, Shouta pulled back, pivoting his stance at the last moment in order to maneuver out of Hizashi’s strike zone as the blonde thrust out his arm, lobbying for the other’s scarf, in an attempt to up his advantage and offensive power by taking control of Shouta’s weapon of choice.  

Thank god this was just a sparring match.

‘That’s a new move,’ the underground hero groused tiredly, as his gaze snapped to the flashing green eyes and the bright smile that was leveled on him as fingers curled around grey.

It was a dangerous decision on Hizashi’s part, though one that could yield high reward, they both knew, as the voice hero tugged, pulling his weight back, trying to overpower Shout’s hold on the weapon by using his distraction against him. 

The voice hero nearly succeeded in that maneuver, and would have had Shouta pinned to the ground in short order, as slivers of grey material slipped away from the man, had the underground hero not pushed his foot out, sweeping away Hizashi’s firm stance with a strike to the calves, using the same level of distracted concentration against Hizashi that he’d used against him. 

It was a familiar move that both of them often exercised whether in sparring matches or on the rare occasion they teamed up together on a mission. 

Efficient, practical. 

Rational. 

And, usually, it brought the opponent further to their knees, giving Shouta, or ‘Zashi a better advantage, allowing them to subdue their opponent with a swiftness that spoke of its efficiency. 

In this case, however, it didn't topple the voice hero, but distracted the blonde long enough for Shouta to shove himself away, watching with an admiring wariness as his partner straightened and righted himself, readied for another bout of sparring, readied for another attack. 

Boots struck the mat with a dancer-like precision as Hizashi charged forward, the glint in his eye sparking, smile widening as he made to tackle Shouta head on. His hair, pulled back into a loose, low bun, was coming undone, forcing blonde tendrils to float about his face as he angled forward, reaching out to Shouta who reeled back hastily. 

Fuck. He always forgot how fast Hizashi was. 

Ducking low to avoid another coiled and precise swing from his opponent, Shouta hissed as he rolled on his bad shoulder, hair falling into his eyes, as he backpedaled to create distance. He was well aware he'd need to ice it later. 

Still. 

With a frown he threaded the capture weapon through his fingers and let his quirk activate.

Hizashi only grinned as he pivoted, dipping his shoulder low to bypass the capture weapon, his other hand coming up to snap his own hold around the weapon. 

"Really? That move again?"

The grin widened as green eyes danced with an almost feral energy. 

"You're too distracted. That's a shame."

The voice hero yanked on the weapon. 

"And a mistake."

And yet it wasn’t, at least not fully. 

Despite the advantage the voice hero had in terms of attention towards the fight, Shouta held the advantage in terms of control of the capture weapon. 

After all, he did have more experience. 

Thankfully, it was enough to offset the sheer power of Hizashi’s reinforced pull, as Shouta let the thread of fabric glide through his fingers, releasing the tension he’d held onto until that point. This sudden shift sent the blonde further back than he’d originally anticipated and gave Shouta a small opening before the other righted themselves. 

The underground hero took the chance and, while Hizashi was momentarily forced into a stumble, Shouta reasserted his grip on the capture weapon and used his speed to create a slingshot effect for himself, his boot coming to smack square into the voice hero’s chest, as a billow of grey coiled around the pair of them. 

And normally that would have been the end of it. 

But this was Hizashi Yamada, and Shouta was distracted. 

And before Shouta really knew what was happening, his leg was encased in a firm grip and he was being tugged and turned over Hizashi’s shoulder, flipped and slammed, hard into the mat beneath their feet. 

Though that wasn’t before, the underground hero managed to snag ‘Zashi’s ankles with the capture weapon and upend the man at the same time. 

Both toppled aside one another, a few groans of annoyance burbling from Shouta’s lips as he tried to right himself, rolling at a snail’s pace, onto his hip and then to his stomach, muscles protesting the entire time. 

God, he felt old.

Hizashi only snorted in amusement as he too struggled to sit up, gently kicking away the capture weapon material puddling around his feet, as he winced and looked over the large scarp along his forearm. 

“Not bad, Shou,” he muttered, in a breathy whisper, “That’s gonna bruise nice.” 

The underground hero gave a noncommittal grunt in reply and eased himself into a sitting position, thoughts still twisted and aching as he massaged his shoulder and stared at the far wall, thoughts and possibilities filtering through his head. 

He wanted so badly to fix the situation. 

He supposed that’s what all heroes wanted. 

But this was the sort of issue that wasn’t an easy fix. Shouta couldn’t just slap a solution together and call it a day. This took time, and a really careful approach to get right. 

And he felt sorely unprepared for it. 

“Shou?” 

The man turned towards Hizashi with a raised brow and noted the way the voice hero smiled at him, the softness in the gaze that belied the concern there as well. 

“You’re distracted.” 

And yeah…

Shouta sighed and ran a hand along his neck, bringing his knees up. 

“He was quirkless.” He replied simply. “Until middle school. And in all that time, he was…” 

There was another sigh. Shouta rubbed his neck again and pursed his lips, blinking. 

“And you don’t know how to help him,” Hizashi remarked simply, “Is that it?” 

“I can’t help him ‘Zashi,” Shouta retorted flatly, “Not if he won’t talk to me about it. Not if he won’t open up about it. And so far…” 

“You can’t force the issue either, Shou.” 

Shouta peered towards Hizashi noting calm expression in the man’s gaze as he smiled towards him, blond hair falling gently over his shoulder, undone from its low bun after their sparring match. 

“And you can’t treat him any different, Shou,” Hizashi remarked softly, his breath coming out in soft puffs as he started to massage his calves. “It won’t do any good. Just set the kid off even more than he is now.” 

And really, Shouta knew that. He did. 

He did. 

But…

How the hell was he supposed to do that and just…

“I can’t ignore the problem, ‘Zashi,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck, resting his elbows on his knees. He could feel sweat trickling down the back of his shirt, certain that a few bruises were forming from where Hizashi got a few good strikes in. 

Damn, the man was fast. He was going to have to start working harder to get past the man’s speed. 

“I didn’t say you had to ignore the problem, Shou. I’m saying you can’t treat the kid different, problem or no.”

The underground hero rested his head on his knees and let his eyes slip closed as he considered just how the hell he was supposed to do that. 

There was a brief few minutes where the man let himself focus on the beating of his heart in his ears, trying to slow his breathing and calm himself down enough to unwind before making his next move.

He knew he'd have to do something soon, too. He knew they'd have to settle this issue, handle the problem, and get things *sorted* in the right way.

Whatever that meant.

For now, though, Shouta didn't know what to do other than listen to his own breathing, trying to quell the agitation he couldn't push out during the sparring, sucking in a few deep breaths to center himself.

It was working.

Marginally, at least, before he felt the soft, familiar pressure of headphones settling over his ears, and a familiar piano piece beginning to filter through the speakers. The man sucked in another deep breath, the ghost of a smile on his lips at the gesture, feeling the tension dissipating more fully, as the cadences picked up through the music. 

"Thanks, 'Zashi." 

"Always, Shou." 

The holiday season always came with a variety of sights and smells and comforts. From the heady scent of gingerbread that filled kitchens and bakeries, to the soft twinkling lights that hung on the trees and over archways, casting the dreamy glow of near candlelight through the common room of the dorm and in the shops and on the campus walkways, or the warming cup of cocoa with its luscious, rich chocolate that warmed your chest as the liquid slipped through your lips and down your throat. There was always something to admire and appreciate. There was always something to distract you. 

And that was, often, a good thing. 

Today was no different, though Izuku knew the smells and sights and tastes were certain to be slightly less cinnamon-centered than most other days during the winter season. And rightly so. 

This was a special day after all. 

For instance, instead of the soft, warming fragrance of cocoa and peppermint that usually permeated the kitchen of late, when he bounded in through the frost, the boy was greeted with the warming, citrusy and sunshine infused scents of yuzu, spying several large baskets sitting atop the counter when he walked in after his morning run. Izuku smiled at the sight, pink cheeks, and red nose tingling, as he shook the last dusting of snowfall from his shoulders and hair and slipped on his house slippers near the door (his position there, his running shoes and house slippers finding a familiar position between Shinsou’s and Eri’s) and maneuvered through the stillness and towards the fridge to grab a bottle of water that Mic-Sensei had reminded him was in there for him. 

He wagered it was the voice hero that had gotten the fruit and set it on the counter this morning before heading to the radio station for his morning show. 

The man was sentimental like that. 

Izuku was too, and it was…well, it was sort of nice to see something like this waiting here when he got back from his run, having this familiar scent to greet him when he walked in the door. 

It tempered any of the lingering wariness he felt that morning after the unpleasant dreams and the less than steady run he’d gone on. 

Who knew that winter brought with it more than one slick patch of ice?

The boy took a large swig of his water and stared at the counter, his thoughts churning carefully towards the future prospects of the day as he tried to school his thoughts, control his feelings and keep everything in check. 

He needed to.  

As it was, the bright yellow fruit was sitting front and center, stacked neatly, waiting to be sliced and prepped for the traditional yuzu baths that would happen later in the day. It was a staple tradition, something that felt as natural a breathing today, something he could hold onto that eased the aching sting of missing his mom and all the other oddities of today and yesterday and last week and the week prior, with all its weirdness and unusual situations that set him here at UA without his family. 

At least, that’s what Izuku kept telling himself. 

He wasn’t sure if it was true though. He wasn’t sure if it was making things better. 

Or worse. 

The boy’s nose twitched, and his fingers tingled with anticipation of the festivities. Because Winter Solstice was a time of coming together, a time for family and friends and good food. 

And he looked forward to those comforts even as much as he felt those sparks of regret for the one who wouldn’t be here to celebrate with him. 

His mother. 

The same one who’d sent another text this morning to remind Izuku to enjoy today’s solstice activities and to make the most of the time he had with those who did care for him. 

‘Enjoy the time with your friends, Izuku.’ 

And he would try. He’d promised his mom as much. But for Izuku, today felt a bit...off. 

Everyday felt a bit off if he were being honest.

Normally that realization wasn’t a bad thing, per se. Izuku should be accustomed to things feeling this way since that sensation was almost a constant now. It mimicked the sense of contentedness that tried to settle in his chest as he found his footing at UA, fought, and grew as a holder of One for All. 

Peace and conflict resided in him as they did everything else. 

Most times he could recognize the one and the other as necessary components to how he understood and reacted to the world around him. Izuku was, understandably wary of certain things, his past a provoker of that wariness and discontent that remained a fluttering, anxiety-inducer within him. His present was a little more settled in its structure and expectations. 

The boy took a tentative step towards the counter and leaned in, letting his elbows rest on the cool marble as he set his water down and reached for one of the yuzu fruits in the basket nearest to the fridge and himself. Chilled fingers idly ghosted over the bumpy fruit as the boy gave a hard stare at the basket and frowned. 

He should be so much happier than he was. 

Izuku should find so much more calm in himself than he did. 

He didn’t have to worry about the backlash of his quirk-status anymore. 

He didn’t have to delude himself with pep talks about how he ‘could do this’ and how he could ‘figure out a way’ to achieve dreams that seemed so far out of his reach. 

No, they were actually quite close to his grasp. They weren’t delusions anymore. He was actually here, at the school he hoped to be at, with a damned quirk of all things. 

He was doing this, actually living his dream. He was on his way to being a hero.  

He knew what to expect with the day to day, with his classmates, with himself. 

Mostly.

The boy squeezed the fruit gently, a brief flicker of green lightning sparking beneath his touch as he sighed and pushed away, returning to his water bottle. A mewling trio pricked at his ears and with slow, aching muscles, the boy turned towards the living room, the soft golden twinkling of the lights mixing in with the warm orangey hues from the fireplace as it churned and puffed out the warming, coiling tendrils of air that wrapped around the boy the minute he eased towards the couch and settled near the little pen where the kittens were wrestling with one another. 

Here Izuku bit back a grin as he watched the trio, growing sturdier on their feet, more curious in their nature, and more determined to escape the confines of their makeshift home, as they rolled about, halfheartedly pouncing and stumbling to grasp onto one another, their meowing mixing in with the soft tinkling of the bells attached to the bows on their collars. 

“You’re up early,” The boy murmured, trying to distract himself as he reached down to rub at Peppercorn’s ears, earning a soft, protesting meow from Nutmeg who also demanded affection. “It seems someone’s already fed you too. I must have been too late.” 

The boy hadn’t missed the trio of bottles and the small bowl of kitten formula sitting on the side table, waiting to be cleaned up. Again, it must have been Mic-Sensei, or someone else in a rush to help out with the kittens amidst their own busy schedule. 

He felt a pang of guilt for being gone on his run for so long.  

It hadn’t really been intentional, but of late, he’d been pushing himself further, trying to find a way to simply forget the dreams that had him bolting from bed, gasping for air, panic and energy flowing into his muscles and flaring along his arms. 

He ran to forget the way his senses felt too sharp, his emotions too raw, everything too loud and bright and strong. 

He ran to forget why everything just felt so wrong all the time. 

Because even with new-found stability, even with a quirk, it brought with it the same hesitation and fear that his previous status as a quirkless child had brought him through middle school. 

Maybe even more. 

The irony. 

But really, what was Izuku expecting? Did he really think that things would just...magically disappear? Did he really believe these feelings would go away, that he could just move on without any sort of backlash or worry hanging over his head? 

Did Izuku truly believe he was strong enough to bypass the emotional strain this would put on him? 

Sure, he could try to pretend that was the case. Hell, that’s what he had been doing for the last several months, working on simply being a hero, pushing through each limitation he’d been faced with and trying to move forward towards his goal. 

But it never quite felt like it was enough. 

He never felt like he was enough. 

Which was stupid really because he should be enough. All his hard work, all the effort Izuku had put into everything, all the praise he’d received for his efforts, it should make it so he was enough, right? 

Right? 

So why didn’t it feel that way? Why did he always sort of feel like he was outside just too slow, too far away from the goal no matter what he did? 

Why couldn't he seem to change that feeling?

‘Because you never saw yourself as worthy of All Might’s power.’ 

And that was the truth, really. Izuku knew it was the truth. 

He hated feeling like a fraud. 

Deep down, there was a part of him that always looked up to All Might as the pinnacle of what a hero could and should be. 

All Might was everything. 

Strength. 

Goodness.

Kindness.

The man never gave up, never gave in. He seemed capable of doing anything, pushing beyond any limit, and always with a smile, always with such ease and care and consideration for everyone. 

It was like it was effortless. 

And he’d been quirkless. 

‘This power was given to me by someone else.’

He’d had it passed down to him. 

One for All. 

And it was something that was now in Izuku’s possession. 

And it was something he was failing to master. 

‘Failing where All Might had succeeded.’ 

‘You’re not a worthy successor, Midoriya.’  

Izuku blinked a few times as he settled his breathing and the way it made the sparks at his fingers flare again, the meowing and soft paws near him a gentle reminder to take it easy. 

The lights continued to sparkle on the pine tree in the corner, the soft crackling of the fire the only other sound to counteract the kittens’ cries as the boy shifted and considered his own fears and the way they made the chill from the outside seep into his bones just a little more. 

‘You’re not worthy.’ 

Maybe he wasn’t worthy. 

Izuku let himself wallow for a moment, replaying the same fears that plagued him on the regular, the same ones he fought so hard to forget and push beyond with each step through the halls of UA, and each trial and exam he passed and made it through. Each time he proved himself, each time he made certain he could do something, he showed just how capable he was. 

He showed he could be something. 

He could be somebody. 

Sucking in a deep breath Izuku let his hands fall and simply stared into the fire for a moment longer, basking in the warmth, even as he tried to forget the trepidation he felt, the fear that he knew to be there, lurking beyond everything, casting a shadow onto hopefulness  

Maybe one day, he supposed, he could find a way to reach out and finally grasp that allusive reassurance he craved. Maybe if he worked hard enough to get over himself and just…move on. 

Maybe if he stopped complaining.

Maybe–

‘Maybe you’re not worth it.’

The boy swallowed and shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts that’d been growing stronger of late, lingering there, with every change and new twist to the story. 

It was getting harder to ignore it. 

But despite it, or perhaps because of the presence of these wearying thoughts, it was remarkably easy for Izuku to let his mind drift to a similar and more pressing issue, a more fervently prominent agitation.

None of the other worries and considerations answered the questions that remained swirling in Izuku’s mind. Nor could it settle the fear and concern he felt for what’d happened last night. It was as though everything was spiraling, secrets unraveling, and the truth being made manifest before the people he desperately wanted to keep it a secret from. 

He was failing miserably at doing that though, it seemed. After the spectacle at the Christmas market, Aizawa-Sensei had to know something was wrong with him, Izuku was certain of it. 

It was only a matter of time before his teacher asked him, outright, what was going on, expecting an answer. 

The underground hero was often like that, blunt and straightforward with his assessments and questioning, expecting answers to his questions and demanding honesty when they were given. It was as though the many could tell when you were lying. 

Perhaps he could. 

And, as it was, Izuku was the type who knew himself well enough to know that he couldn’t lie very well, not to Aizawa-Sensei. 

And he hated that realization. The boy had never wanted anyone to take pity on him for what’d gone on or what he’d been through. It wasn’t a necessity to care, so why did it matter now? 

Why should it matter now? 

And why would or should it matter to one of his teachers of all things? It’d never been like that before now. There’d never been a need to really try to rely on someone like that because they’d never shown interest in Izuku to begin with. 

He was used to their indifference, their ability to shrug off the obvious scratch marks and bruises, and torn uniform. 

But with Aizawa-Sensei, it was different. He was different. The boy chewed on his bottom lip as he considered…

Maybe that was the whole thing then. Maybe it was the idea that someone cared that was throwing Izuku, making it harder to understand. 

Because it’d never happened before. Why be kind to the quirkless? Why care about someone who had no viable future in the hero world? 

Someone who’d end up in the shadows anyway. 

It just didn’t make sense to the boy, and that’s what set him on edge, and made him nervous because this was…new. He was working in uncharted territory and, well…

What if it was a lie? 

What if…

There was a click of a door down the hall as Izuku turned back towards the kitchen, ears almost burning, heart hammering as he tried to quash the idea down just a little more, noting the soft shuffling of socks against carpet as someone made their way to the kitchen. 

Eri was, understandably, nervous. 

She'd never really had a birthday before. 

She didn't know when her birthday was until Mr. 'Zashi had told her when it was. Before then? It didn’t really matter much. 

"Coming right up there, little listener! Are you excited?"

She didn't know she needed to be excited but watching the others made her smile. They all seemed so happy and warm. And she liked that. She liked that they felt that way.  

So maybe she could be excited if they were?

It still didn't ease the nerves, though. And that whole week, she had this weird gurgling in her tummy about what was going to happen. What would a birthday mean here with Mr. ‘Zashi and Shou and Hitoshi and Deku? What would Mr. All Might do? Would there be anything special like there was when they celebrated Christmas things? 

Eri had lots of questions.

But no one would say anything no matter how many times she asked. ‘Zashi would just give her a bright smile and bop her nose, which made it twitch of course, but he thought it was funny. 

And Shou?

Well Mr. Shouta didn’t answer anything really. He just said she was too curious for her own good and would smile at her too. 

“Just be patient, Eri.” He’d say. A lot. 

In fact, he’d say it every time she asked him a question. 

Be patient. 

Sometimes she wondered if her questions made them mad. But they never told her she couldn't ask questions though, which was a good change. She had rules she had to follow, yes, but things like asking questions or running around? 

She actually got to choose. And it was nice to be able to choose. 

But she tried to be careful just in case they did get upset. She didn't want to make them mad. 

Even if they never had been yet.

Still, they all seemed excited for her birthday, with Hitoshi asking her what present she wanted and Deku promising her that everything would be extra special for her day. Her favorite colors and cake and treats. 

Not that she had a favorite cake or anything…

But she was excited, nonetheless. 

“And your birthday is on the winter solstice!” Deku exclaimed the night prior, as they’d walked back to the car from the Christmas Market. “It means you’re extra special, Eri.” 

‘Your quirk is a blessing.’ 

Mr. Deku always said the nicest things and it made Eri feel warm to hear them, even if it made her cry a little. 

She didn’t know why he cared about her and thought she was special. 

No one ever had. 

And now? 

Now she had so many people who smiled at her and helped her to color or learn new tricks like skating. She had people there to read her a story or cook her dinner. She had people there to help her with her hair.  

But Deku? 

He was different. 

Eri just didn’t know why though. 

She knew he was a hero. 

He’d saved her. 

But it was more than that. It was…

“You okay Eri?” 

The girl blinked up at Deku, whose brows were knit in concern, green eyes shining as he set his water bottle aside to watch her, turning to more fully face the girl. He’d just come back from running, she knew. He was always out and running. 

But he’d insisted on making her breakfast, moving from the couch to the kitchen, and pulling out a simple bowl and some cereal for her, as she’d scooted towards a stool, only pausing to grab another swig of water.

He must be tired. 

But here he was in the kitchen, watching her and asking her if she was okay. And it was really...really sort of weird. Eri didn’t really know how to feel about it. It made her sort of happy and sad at the same time because... 

Deku was the first person to ever ask that. 

And he was the first person she believed when they said they cared.  

Yes, she knew that others asked if she was okay too. Aizawa and Yamada and Shinsou and Mirio were good askers. They cared. They smiled like Deku did. They hugged like he did too.  

But Deku had always been the first.

The first one to smile.

The first one to hug her. 

The first one to really save her.

He’d always cared first. 

And she would always try to answer him and say the truth because she cared about him too. She never wanted to disappoint Deku and talking to him made her happier. She knew she’d be safe with him. He’d protect her. 

‘I won’t let you go ever again.’ 

And he hadn’t. 

“Eri?”

But who cared for him?

Wide eyes, paralleled one another, cranberry and pine-green, locked in a staring match as Eri peered towards Deku who’d crouched in front of her, his face scrunching up in that look that he always got when he was thinking really hard and trying to understand something. 

Eri should answer truthfully. He would want her to say the truth. And Eri wanted to make Deku happy. 

Eri wanted to trust Deku. 

“I don’t know,” the girl remarked slowly, her voice hesitant and small as she tried to think about what she was saying. She was kind of confused so she didn’t know how to say what she was feeling. 

But she promised she would always try. 

“I don’t know how to feel right now. I’m nervous, but excited, but sort of...scared. I don’t know what a birthday really means, Deku.” 

She watched Deku’s face change, as he tilted his head, the scrunching in his face smoothing out until a smile was there instead. It was a small one, like the one when they first met. A really soft one. 

Like a hug. 

And it reached his eyes, made the green sparkle brighter as he reached forward and put a hand on Eri’s head. 

“It’s okay to be scared,” The boy said softly, “I’m scared a lot. And birthdays are a new thing. Sometimes new things can be scary.” 

The boy’s smile widened. 

“But this? This is a good scary, it’s the type of scary that makes things exciting, ya know?” 

Eri blinked a few times, feeling the boy’s heavy hand on her head, confused by what he just said and how to understand it because something scary was always scary. But…

“How can...scary be a good thing?” The girl’s nose twitched as she frowned, her face puckering up as she tried to understand why Deku’s smile one grew and he laughed a little at her question. 

“Because, sometimes, it’s not scary because it’s bad,” he replied kindly as he removed his hand from Eri’s head and slowly rose and stretched, wincing slightly as he adjusted his back. “It’s scary because it’s new and exciting and you don’t know what to expect, but that’s part of the fun of it. So, it’s a good sort of scary, even if you are a little unsure.” 

Deku waved his hand towards the stool, and nodded gently towards the girl, signaling for Eri to have a seat as he returned to finish up the cereal-making. 

“It’s okay to be scared,” The boy replied again. Milk splashed gently into the bowl as he grabbed a spoon and slowly pushed the cold, simple meal towards the girl, his eyes always kind, his smile always there. “And it’s okay to say you’re unsure but remember Eri. You’re not alone. Okay? This is such a special day. It’s your special day.” 

‘Your quirk is a blessing.’ 

The girl froze and stared back at Deku, feeling something warm in her chest, but feeling something heavy in her stomach as another question sprang up in her mind. 

If she was so important…?

Then why…?

“Hello and good morning my dears!” 

The girl jumped in surprise at the bright call and both she and Deku turned towards the clattering of bags and boxes against the countertop as Kayama marched into the kitchen and plopped her shopping down, before giving a toothy grin to the girl who sat with her spoonful of cereal hovering above her bowl, the first bite still waiting to be consumed. 

Dressed in casual clothes, a warm, red puffer coat and long, black leggings, the woman looked excited and happy for the day. 

It made Eri a little more excited too. 

“Happy birthday Eri! I hope you’re ready for a fun day!” The woman exclaimed as she leaned across the counter and grinned at the girl, her blue eyes sparkling in amusement and excitement. “We have so many special things planned. And!” 

Kayama tapped her hands against the marbled countertop as she dug through the bag closest to her and hastily dug through the confines, her smile growing with each movement before she pulled out a flurry of silken fabric and held it high the air. 

“I finally found the perfect outfit for today’s trip!” 

The girl’s eyes widened as both she and Deku looked at the small kimono meant for Eri to wear. The kimono itself was a soft purple color with small brown branches painted across the material, dispersing deserved dollops of pink Sakura flowers that stood out against the purple. 

Eri loved it. 

“I thought it’d match your hair perfectly!” The woman stated, happily, her smile only growing.  “A great holiday set for you, for sure!” 

It was a wonder to Hizashi how two rather different people could be so utterly dense.

So similar, too, in their dense behavior. 

It was a wonder to the voice hero, how he’d lucked out to find two people who acted and reacted like that in his life, and yet, as odd or unusual it may seem to be, here the voice hero stood, peering in front he hallway, watching a young would-be hero squaring off against a six–now seven year old who had asked him a question that seemed to hold the fate of her universe well within its confines. 

And Hizashi didn’t mean to make light of it. He was sincere in that assessment, because to Eri, this was an important, and painful question to ask. 

This question mattered. This question was hard. And the fact that the girl, with those large, cranberry eyes, rarely opened up with questions to Hizashi or Shouta but would seek out Izuku’s advice and reply? 

It spoke volumes of her trust in the boy. 

It spoke of her faith in his ability to protect her. 

And it absolutely mirrored how Izuku, himself seemed to see one Shouta Aizawa. Hizashi wasn’t blind. He’d seen that same trusting gaze, however guarded it may be, shining in that green gaze enough times to understand just how much the boy revered his Sensei. 

It was the same man whom the boy had mimicked in his own stance, as he had crouched before the girl, as Hizashi had seen Shouta do a dozen times before, placing a hand on the girl’s head, as the erasure hero had done with such a familiarity that it made the voice hero do a double take just to make sure it wasn’t Shou there instead of Midoriya. 

The movements were so similar, the reply so much the same, focused on the person before them, instilling confidence, ensuring compassion and care towards their charge.

‘It’s okay to be scared…you’re not alone…’ 

‘We do this together.’ 

The voice hero bit back a wry grin as he watched Nemuri dote on Eri, the girl hastily finishing her breakfast in anticipation for getting ready to go to the temple, the new kimono an obvious bright spot for the girl’s attention as she kept returning to stare at it, her face twisting into a tentatively excited smile every time she hazarded a peek. 

It was endearing. 

 And while excited chatter filled the space, Hizashi could see another similarity between Shouta and Izuku that made that smile falter just a bit, made the worry increase, as he watched the boy idly running a hand along the yuzu fruit still on the counter, his gaze thoughtful, mouth slack. 

Silence. 

Izuku Midoriya remained silent, contemplative and observant to the woman and girl before him, listening to Eri reply eagerly to Nemuri’s questions of how she might like her hair styled and if she was looking forward to the party afterwards. 

Izuku, having assuaged the girl’s trepidations about her birthday–something foreign (and heartbreakingly so) to the girl–now took a step back and merely let the world pass him by. 

As though he seemed to prefer to be the outsider. 

As though he didn’t seem himself as part of the collective. 

And it wasn’t just a seeking of solitude that had the voice hero wary. Even he needed a reprieve from the hectic world every now and then. 

No, it was the familiarity of the expression, the haunted sort of shadow that lurked in the boy’s gaze, that had Hizashi’s itching to get to the root of the problem and figure out why, for the second time in his life, he had to witness someone with that level of grief and worry in their eyes. 

And at so young an age, too. 

‘Why are you both so much alike, Shou?’ he mused, stepping into the kitchen, his footfalls silent, his presence unnoticed in the clamor and cheer. 

‘And what are we going to do about it?’

“You’re up early, little listeners!” He cheered quietly, making his presence known. Surprisingly, Midoriya didn’t jump at his call, only turning with a soft smile and a nod before he murmured that he'd be right back with something special for the girl. 

"I have a surprise for you." 

And like a shadow, the boy was gone, barely meeting Hizashi's gaze, which set the familiar trill of worry through him that he was certain Shou carried for his Problem Child constantly. 

There was a loneliness in the boy's footsteps, and a sorrow in his eyes that the man couldn't figure out.

He knew Shouta was close though. 

He had to trust that. 

Izuku hadn’t meant to overhear. 

Stealth had never been his strong suit after all. But coming back from his temporary bedroom, having grabbed a blanket for Eri, and the few other gifts he and Shinsou had worked on together to make for the girl, he couldn’t help accidentally stumbling into the shadow of the conversation that murmured through the partially closed doorway in the silent hall, just a few doors down from where he’d been collecting his necessities. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew him before UA, Yagi?” 

Izuku stiffened at the query, and the hardness in Aizawa-Sensei’s question, directed towards his mentor. Clenching his hands into fists, he felt his stomach drop at the accusations, and the tension between two people he cared about and admired. 

The fact they were discussing him didn’t help matters any, either. 

Nor the fact they were talking about the one thing he Izuku wished they both would just…forget. 

“It wasn’t relevant at the time Aizawa and–” 

“The fuck it wasn’t.” 

There was a heavy sigh. It was a familiar sight that Izuku had heard one too many times, directed towards him. He could picture that unimpressed expression and the way he frowned and almost glowered with disappointment. 

Now he pictured it directed towards All Might and shuddered at the thought. 

He didn't know what was scarier: 

The fact that Aizawa-Sensei was upset or the fact that he was telling All Might, of all people, he was disappointed in him…

It set the boy on edge and made him equal parts hesitant to move and anxious to get himself as far away from the door as possible because he sure as hell didn’t want to be caught listening in on this conversation.

The kid already felt stupid being here, taking up everyone’s time and energy with a situation that wasn’t ideal. 

Add onto that the annoyance with what’d happened yesterday and earlier with the temple and Izuku found himself just a little less and less optimistic that this was the right choice to have made, that he really ought to have stayed by himself at his apartment where he wouldn’t have bothered anyone–

“If I had known, Yagi, I could have helped him more. I wouldn’t have–” There was another sigh as Izuku’s brows drew together in confusion at the comment and he shuffled closer to the door. “All those weeks of watching him struggle through classes and it was because he didn’t have a handle on his quirk.”

“Well yes–” 

“Because he hadn’t had his quirk before then.” 

Izuku froze, eyes widening, the world screeching to a halt as reality finally settled. 

‘Shit.’ 

He knew. 

Aizawa-Sensei knew he’d been quirkless. 

He knew that…

He knew. 

‘Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit SHIT.’ 

Izuku clutched at the blankets a little tighter and felt his stomach give a jostle. A rushing filled his ears as he struggled to stop himself from bolting, as his heart continued to hammer in his chest. 

This was worse than what he’d imagined. All day he knew something was off, something was wrong but now? It was just so…his Sensei knew he’d lied or had been lying. He knew Izuku had been quirkless and–

“Would it have changed anything, Aizawa?” All Might’s voice was soft, though his question held a measure of a threat, firm and resolved in its inquiry. “Would it really have changed how you treated him?” 

Izuku swallowed, unsure if he really wanted to know the answer as he blinked a few times to steady his vision. 

‘You’re not a worthy successor.’ The voice in the back of his mind reminded. 

“I never expelled him,” Aizawa-Sensei remarked simply, “And for good reason, you know that. You were there that day. You saw that ball throw.” 

There was a soft snort in reply, a hand landing on the desk that sat on the far wall near the door. Izuku remembered seeing it stacked with books and folders, where Aizawa-Sensei often kept his lesson materials after class, and when he was grading late at night. 

“You saw in him the same potential I did, Shouta, admit it.”

Another sigh escaped the underground hero, this one less tired than the previous had been. 

“Be that as it may, it didn’t make it any easier on him, you realize,” Aizawa-Sensei intoned, “If I had known, I could have helped him more. I could have helped him sooner. He deserved better, Yagi, but you and he never said anything about it.” 

‘He deserved better.’ 

Izuku didn’t know what to make of that response or why Aizawa-Sensei would ever think something like that in the first place. 

“It’s a hard thing to admit to, Aizawa.” All Might remarked evenly, almost patient in his reply. There was a shifting of fabric, the rustling of material as someone moved closer to the door. Izuku stiffened. 

 “You don’t know that type of burden. And Young Midoriya isn’t one to look for a handout. He likes to prove himself.” 

There was a huff of annoyance as the boy fidgeted and peered down at his hands, his grip digging wrinkles into the blankets in his hold as his heart continued to hammer in time with the conflicted feelings that warred within him. The silence around Izuku was deafening, only amplifying the soft murmurs behind the small barrier of wood from the door. 

“That’s no excuse.”

The boy shook his head and stepped back. And then he took another step. 

And another. 

He’d intruded long enough on a conversation he wasn’t meant to hear, even if it was about him. 

‘That’s no excuse.’ 

He shouldn’t have lied. 

Perhaps he shouldn’t have believed that he could be more than he was.

‘Coward.’ 

The boy grimaced and clutched at the gifts and blankets in his arms as his ears burned, the heat wrapping around his neck and pinching at his cheeks. His stomach sloshed and frothed uncomfortably, and his legs shook as he resisted the urge to simply tuck himself away, to bolt and go and leave everything and everyone and just think and hide. 

‘That’s no excuse.’ 

He could hide in his dorm. He could finish up his Christmas presents. He could work on his essays. He could put his headphones in and just let the day slip by and pretend that none of this had ever happened, that his Sensei didn’t know the truth, that things weren’t crumbling…

That his confidence wasn’t as fragile as it was. 

‘That’s no excuse.’ 

“Deku?”

The boy blinked, eyes widening in surprise as he noted the lights from the Christmas tree in the living room, the music Mic-Sensei had started playing gently wafting through the air, and three pairs of eyes turned on him, as he stood near the entrance of the hall, having stopped, and stared, lost in thought. 

So lost, he hadn’t realized others were watching, nor where he was. 

Dammit. 

“Deku?” Eri’s voice carried again as she tried to step down from the stool, her expression was colored with a concerned, small frown on her face. It matched Kayama-Sensei’s and Mic-Sensei’s inquiring looks. 

How long had he been standing there? 

‘You’re being selfish, Izuku.’ 

The boy faltered in his footsteps, only briefly as Eri’s bright smile flashed before his mind’s eye, and he considered what today meant for her, how important it was for her to have a good day. 

He had to give that back to her. 

‘Birthdays are important. You’re important Eri.’ 

‘That’s no excuse.’ 

His frown deepened, the guilt rising as two conflicting feelings warred within him. 

And yeah, maybe he was being a little selfish for wanting to run.  He needed to focus on something else, someone else. 

Heroes didn’t run. 

Right? 

The boy blinked again and swallowed back his frustration, the fear, and the hurt that’d been brewing for weeks now, and plastered a smile on his face. 

Heroes didn’t run. 

This wasn’t about him. 

He wasn’t important. 

This was for her. 

“I…have a gift for you, Eri.” Izuku murmured quietly, as the girl slowly ambled closer.

‘Lie better. Smile more.’ He reminded himself, trying to put his attention on the girl, to let her know that it was about her today. That she was the most important thing. 

That she wouldn’t be forgotten. 

Crouching down to her level, the boy set aside the blankets, and gently, produced the small box, delicately wrapped in red paper, and tied with a golden ribbon, watching as the girl’s gaze shifted from worry to curiosity in a blink. 

And that was good. That was very good. Izuku didn’t need this little girl to worry about him. He didn’t need to spoil today for her. 

He didn’t need to make things worse than they’d already been. 

“Happy birthday, Eri.” With a gentle movement, the boy eased the gift forward, scarred hands transferring the box from his hold, to Eri’s watching with a fondness, that quelled the anxiety he felt, as small hands gripped the corners of the box with a gentle reverence as wide, crimson eyes widened further, obvious surprise swirling in the girl’s gaze. 

“A…gift?” She whispered, clearly confused, her voice cracking, “But…I didn’t…get you anything?” 

Izuku smiled and placed a hand on her head again, giving her hair a gentle ruffle. 

“And you don’t have to, Eri,” he replied. “It’s your birthday. This is just for you.” 

‘All for you.’ 

He had to focus on that. 

He could focus on that. 

His feelings didn’t matter. 

What mattered right now was watching the way Eri’s brows furrowed as she reached and carefully ran a hand along the bow, her gaze flicking between the gift and staring back at Izuku who only nodded in encouragement. 

“I thought…you’d like to open this now,” He commented quietly, spying the way the girl’s fingers slowly coiled around the edge of the wrapping in anticipation. And Izuku was glad for that, for the way her childlike attitude peeked through the hesitation and wariness. 

It meant that she was starting to let her guard down and just be a kid. 

Izuku would give everything to let her have that. 

The boy nodded again and pressed the box more firmly in the girl’s hands and grinned. 

“I’m excited to see what you think of it,” He remarked softly. “I hope you like it.” 

“Oh, a present then, little listener?” Mic-Sensei came to stand behind the girl, towering over the pair, his presence a soft, and bright warmth that cast over the pair as he grinned down on Eri as he peered over the bridge of his glasses. “And fancy wrappings too! Seems a sweet deal to open it up then. I’m curious to see whatcha got!” 

The girl turned her face upward to look at the voice hero, searching the man’s face, almost as though she needed confirmation to begin unwrapping. 

The man mimicked Izuku’s nod of approval. 

“First present of the day is always the most exciting!” The man winked towards Izuku briefly, before turning back to Eri, “And I bet Deku here put a lot of thought into it, just for you.” 

The boy felt the heat renew its warmth on his ears as he cast his eyes to the floor as the girl hummed a soft ‘okay’ before Izuku peered to see her begin the gentle task of untying the ribbon and unwrapping the present. 

He could admit he was nervous. Izuku had never actually shopped for a little kid before, certainly not one like Eri, not someone he thought so fondly of. He wanted so much for her to like this gift and he worried, as she let the wrappings fall to the ground, and eased open the lid, if she would like this gift at all. 

It wasn’t a toy. It wasn’t something she could play with. 

Instead, it was the hair pin, with the delicate Sakura flowers, and white crane bird, he’d purchased a few days prior at the shops with Aizawa-Sensei. As Eri brought the small gift out of its neat packaging and it struck the light, you could see the soft carving of each blushy petal, the way they curved as though they were dancing in the breeze. The feathers on the crane, a small bird, were intricately positioned as though the bird was in flight, colored with golden tints for the beak and legs and creamy white for the feathers. 

To him, the pin looked even better here than it had back at the stall. But…

The boy chewed his bottom lip and watched the girl carefully, trying to gauge her reaction, noting the way her eyes stayed trained on the pin, her hands shaking softly as she leaned in close to look at the object in her grip. 

Worry crept in. 

Izuku fretted. 

Did she not like it? 

“I…uh, I thought that maybe you’d like to wear it to the temple today,” he murmured quietly. “It sort of…goes well with the kimono that Kayama-Sensei got you and I thought that maybe–” 

 Eri’s head tilted upward to face Izuku. Her eyes watered, shining bright in the overheard glow, before she threw herself into a tight hold around the boy’s neck with a soft thank you against the boy’s throat. 

Surprised, the boy could only wrap his arms around the girl in an awkward hug, a sense of relief working through him. 

It only solidified where he could and would place his efforts and attentions today. 

This was a better feeling than any other. 

This was worth it.  

Naomasa wasn’t expecting much of the trip to the temple. Yes, it was a tradition he upheld with his sister every year. Yes, it was a familiar place for him to be, so nothing was out of the ordinary, which would give him the illusion of complacency and normalcy. 

But he was being tasked with following a lead today of all days, with the suggestion that he might gain something by observing his surroundings, the situation, and the people he might come in contact with. 

Or, rather, Izuku Midoriya, as it were, was going to be here. At least, that was according to Nezu’s information, which meant it was almost guaranteed to be a certainty, really. 

Though, as he scanned the area, searching for a somewhat familiar head of earthen, green curls, Naomasa, frankly, didn’t really know what the purpose was for this whole endeavor, nor why he should be getting involved in the first place. At least, not right now. 

The man frowned as he watched the array of colorful kimonos mixing in with the lanterns and snow and lights. The early afternoon was beginning to cast long shadows, the first shifting of color in the sky, moving from blue to peachy sunset colors brought a dreamy quality to the area around him.  The soft grey stonework blended well with the snow and contrasted the strings of lanterns that hung along the stalls and walkways that lined the path towards the temple. 

The small market was in full swing, with people milling about, buying charms for good luck and health for the new year, or making their way to the shrine to pray, the inviting scents from the different warm food vendors tickling his nose as he passed slowly through the crowd. 

He had to admit that it was somewhat idyllic and comforting to him in its familiarity, and the detective couldn’t help the small uptick of a smile that escaped and wormed its way onto his lips as he considered the many years he’d spent coming here as a kid with his own family, participating in the same traditions, year after year, eating the same foods, praying for the same things. 

Naomasa was a creature of habit. He liked stability. He liked consistency. He liked a foundation to hold onto. It brought him comfort. 

So, it brought him a little bit of an issue to take that foundational stability of tradition and use it for ulterior motives, like he was right now. 

True, it was a unique circumstance, with an important case, but the conflict still remained within him, and Naomasa still questioned the necessity of why they were approaching the situation the way they were at all. 

‘We can’t ask him outright. The boy will completely shut down. We have to glean what information we can for now, gauge the truthfulness of the rumors I’ve collected.’ 

Naomasa frowned from his position atop the temple steps, as he watched the troupe of teachers, and their charges make their way slowly through the stalls. Aizawa and Yamada led the way, with Eri tucked between them. Dressed in traditional garb, a sunset kimono and a dark blue one respectively, the duo contrasted one another and stood as sentinels to the little girl in periwinkle with her hair pulled into a high bun with an intricate hair pin bouncing with each step she took. Behind them were Hitoshi Shinsou, and Kayama, both in dark purple traditional garb, with Izuku and Toshinori following after, wearing deep green and sky blue respectively. 

It’d been a larger group than Naomasa was expecting and his sister was somewhere nearby, perusing the stalls, trying to remain inconspicuous so the man could just observe the rabble as they moved through the crowd, trying to hunt for clues before he made a move to hedge closer and attempt conversation. 

The first step was always outside observation. Perception was everything. It gave him a baseline. 

It helped him to understand. 

And what the man could see, peering at the boy in green, was somewhat concerning. 

Hunched shoulders. A gentle tucking into himself. Though Izuku Midoriya turned, attentively to talk to Toshinori–All Might, his idol–there was a hesitation there, in his expression, in the way he shifted and created a distance between them. 

And that was the boy who was the successor to All Might’s power. 

Naomasa’s concern grew when he noticed a clear aversion, too, to the larger crowds, as the boy sidestepped other festival go-ers, hasty apologies falling from his lips if he was jostled or bumped into. 

Which happened more than once. 

These were all questionable occurrences, true, but nothing that had the man overly concerned. At least, not to the same level that Nezu felt necessary for the man to intervene and outright begin the process of questioning the kid in the middle of a solstice festival of all things. 

‘Just preliminary things. Just to gauge his reaction. You, more than anyone can tell if he’s lying. ‘ 

The man huffed and ran a hand through his hair, adjusting the sleeve of his own traditional garb, grey and simple as it was so as not to draw attention to himself, and slowly made his way down the temple steps. The chatter of the festival go-ers grew with each descending move into the fray, the sounds amplified the further into the crowd he moved as the lights and smells overwhelmed him. 

“Do you think we need two or three charms this year?” 

“Perhaps we should go to the shrine to pray next?” 

“Are you hungry?” 

Thankfully, the man could make out Toshinori’s blonde head from his position down the way and gave a small wave to grab the former hero’s attention. 

“Toshinori!” 

He didn’t know why he was doing this. 

The former number one hero turned, eyes bright and piercing in his smaller form as they ever were in his hero form, and a smile split the man’s face as he waved back in reply. 

“Naomasa! It’s good to see you!” 

Izuku Midoriya’s head tilted up and the rest of the group turned back to peer at the detective, a mixture of smiles and curious expressions swirling as the man edged closer. 

It was Shouta Aizawa, however, that regarded the man with a measure of suspicion, brows drawing together, and a frown tilting his mouth as he watched Naomasa from his position near Eri and Yamada. The detective didn’t miss the way the underground hero’s gaze shifted between Toshinori’s, Izuku’s and himself. 

The man was clever to see the connection, Naomasa would grant him that. He supposed that Nezu underestimated Shouta Aizawa just a touch. 

“What brings all of you here?” The man queried evenly, falling into step with the group as they continued their slow maneuver through the stalls. 

Naomasa smiled towards Izuku, playing off ignorance and pretending he hadn’t seen Aizawan’s hawklike gaze settle on him. “Come to collect a few charms?” He gestured to a few of the stalls up ahead, where some of the larger crowds were, and where dozens of charms  hung, high and low, along the tops of the signs of each stall, and down the poles that made up the small canopies. 

It was a good opening question. A neutral start. One that would allow him to gauge Midoriya’s response. 

“Among other things,” The boy replied after a moment, his voice quiet, as he fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. “It’s also Eri’s birthday so we wanted to celebrate by visiting the temple and the stalls before the dinner and cake.” 

‘Truth.’ 

The boy’s smile gave him away there, and it was easy for Naomasa to see that Izuku Midoriya was, more than likely, a transparent liar. 

Meaning he was probably really, really bad at it, often wearing his feelings on his face, expressions giving him away, even if he tried to hide them. This could make things easier for the detective. 

Perhaps make it less painful for the boy too, he supposed. 

And that was very good. 

“Well that’s exciting for you Eri!” He remarked and turned to smile towards Eri who stopped walking, straightened, and turned back to give a tentative, shy smile in return. “A very happy birthday to you! A solstice birthday is a special one! You are very lucky.” 

The man turned back towards the verdant-haired boy and grinned, trying to keep his voice light, trying to appear calm and easygoing. 

Otherwise, this wouldn’t work. 

“And what about you?” He remarked, as they continued their slow pace. “Are you staying on campus for the holiday? Not going home with your mom?” 

The boy stiffened slightly at the query and averted his gaze as Naomasa sent a silent apology to the boy as well as All Might and the other teachers who were undoubtedly giving him a few sharp looks. 

He was going to kill Nezu for this. 

“No…I uh…she’s working at Jakku General this year so…I’m with…” The boy seemed to struggle for his words for a moment, almost carefully considering what he was trying to say. And what he wasn’t going to let himself say. 

That was interesting to Naomasa. He wondered if the boy realized  he was doing it either. 

“I’m…at UA for now.” 

‘Truth.’ His mind chimed and the man nodded in understanding as the crowd moved around them, Eri and Yamada having stopped towards a sweets stand, with Kayama following behind. 

“Where’s your sister, Naomasa?” Toshinori cut in with his own question, his voice brooking a slight warning as a flash of curiosity peeked through the sapphire gaze that leveled on the detective when the man turned to look at the hero. “Doesn’t she usually come with you each year to these?” 

The detective nodded in agreement, and smiled to his friend, trying to warn him with his eyes for what was about the come, what he was trying to do. 

Why Nezu hadn’t warned them was beyond Naomasa’s understanding.

“She’s around here somewhere!” He laughed lightly, “Probably buying a slew of charms for good luck this year since she has a few new kids following her around and getting into all kinds of trouble.” 

The man huffed lightly at the thought of his sister’s less than…legal affiliations to the vigilante sector and the rabble that she hung out with. What a stark contrast between brother and sister it was and it often made him laugh to think about how similar his and her quirks were, yet how different each of them used their respective powers. 

Toshinori only grinned at Naomasa’s remarks and shook his head. 

“Still working with the underground, eh?” The former hero remarked softly to which Naomasa nodded. 

“That and started her teaching degree, if you can believe it!” he retorted, “Looking for work at some of the higher quality schools in the district.” 

Here he turned back towards Izuku, and swallowed back his regret for the pain he was about to cause.

“In fact, one of the schools that has her interest you may know, Midoriya,” The detective intoned thoughtfully, “Alderra Junior High was recently at the top of her applications lists. Didn’t you attend there?” 

The boy’s eyes widened and all he could do was nod mutely as he stared back at the detective. 

There was a warning glance from Toshinori, but Naomasa ignored it in favor of pressing just a little further, asking just a few more questions to see if he could find the grain of truth to the rumors. 

‘I’m sorry, Midoriya.’ 

“I hear it’s a good school. What’s your opinion?” 

There was a long stretch of silence from the boy, the chattering of the crowds around them rising and falling like a garbled mess of indistinguishable waves as the detective focused on the boy and watched a flurry of emotions flicker through those wide, viridescent eyes. He noted the way the boy’s shoulders slouched a bit further inward as hands clasped together before the boy offered a response. 

“It’s…definitely a good school for anyone who wants to be a hero.” 

’Lie’

And there it was. 

The man bit back the frown, resisting the urge to narrow his eyes as he carefully considered his next question, trying to note just how far he could press this line  before he was cut off. He could feel the tension between Midoriya and himself growing, the discomfort apparent in the way the boy carried himself. Further, though, he could feel the sharp gazes from Toshinori and Aizawa on him. 

The man hazarded a brief glance towards the underground hero, noting the dark glower directed his way, the telltale frown firmly in place as he stared down the detective near the sweets stall, looking as though he were ready to march over there and yank Midoriya away from Naomasa’s harassment with little hesitation. 

‘How parental’ He thought a bit wryly as he measured his time carefully and peered at the boy, noting the way in which Izuku Midoriya tried to school his features, as they continued to walk. There was a soft twitching of the boy’s nose, followed by the rapid blinking of his eyes as he shook his head lightly before smiling. 

“It’s really a great school,” He murmured again, with a nod, “I’m sure she’d love it there.” 

’Lie’

The man only nodded in thanks to the boy and hummed thoughtfully as they came to a stall with prayer charms and trinkets. The man watched Izuku turn to look at a few of the smaller ones on display across the counter, his shaking hands carefully sweeping over a few along the corner of the stall. 

Charms for health. 

Charms for good luck. 

‘Ask it.’ 

“And all your teachers were kind then?” Naomasa queried softly, “They all treated you well? Taught you how to be a hero and cared about you?” 

The boy’s hands froze as he cast a sidelong glance towards the detective, wariness apparent in his gaze as he pursed his lips. 

“Naomasa that seems an awfully personal question, don’t you think?” Toshinori’s voice was to his right and the detective nodded, in agreement, giving a slight laugh to downplay the threat there. 

“I don’t mean it to be,” He raised his hands placatingly, “I was just curious is all. Makoto has a pretty…unique personality and doesn’t always get along with people who can be unkind to others so I wanted to make sure that it was a good fit.” 

The man nodded again and smiled. 

“No harm done!” 

He didn’t expect Izuku to answer, but in truth, given the reaction he received from the question alone, he didn’t really need to receive an answer to the question to understand the severity of the issue a bit better now. 

‘Perhaps’ he mused, as he spied Makoto waving at him,  her dark hair whipping about her face as she held aloft a large bag of trinkets. Hastily he bid farewell to Izuku and Tohsinori, refusing to look towards Aizawa and the glare that seared into the back of his head. 

‘Perhaps there was truth to the rumors after all. ‘ 

Perhaps the students weren't the only ones causing problems at Alderra Junior High. 

"Excuse me, young Midoriya," Toshi murmured as he quickly sidestepped the boy and made to follow after Naomasa. His senses raged with curiosity and concern as the memory of the boy's expression at the question surrounding Alderra seared itself into the forefront of Toshi's mind.

Mostly, though, it angered the man because he felt horribly out of the loop for whatever the hell Naomasa was up to (no doubt sent by Nezu) and why he was doing it today of all days? And here, out in middle of the  hustle and bother.

It didn't make sense. 

"Naomasa!"  

The former number one hero lengthened his stride to catch up to his friend, gently easing through the thing of people as he watched the detective turn to acknowledge him, a look of understanding flickering across his face as he slowed his pace to accommodate Toshi.

The blonde breathed a soft sigh of relief as he sidled alongside his friend and fell into an easy stroll with the man, waiting for the detective to finally admit to what the hell was going on. 

Because they both knew that something was definitely going on. 

Thankfully, Naomasa waited until they were outside of earshot from the rest of the group before he turned to Toshi and gave a soft nod and regretful smile. 

“Nezu” the man remarked simply “Had a theory.” 

At this Toshinori narrowed his gaze and frowned at the other, waiting for an elaboration. 

“Suppose,” Naomasa continued after a few moments of silence, “Larger charges need to be filed against the school. Beyond neglect.” 

The man’s mouth fell open slightly as they slowly moved further through the crowd, towards the temple. The chatter continued to rise around them. 

“What do you mean.” 

Naomasa only shook his head and gestured towards the steps, signaling that Toshi ought to head up with him. 

“It’s worse than you think,” The man remarked simply. “Much worse, if the rumors are to be believed.” 

Rumors?

Toshi quirked his head in confusion and tucked his hands into his coat pocket. While the others had dressed in kimonos and traditional garb, he’d elected for warmer clothing, a deep green jacket draped over his thin frame, and cream colored scarf wrapped around his neck. 

He felt the chill nonetheless as he turned, briefly, to peer back towards Midoriya and the rest, watching as the boy slowly meandered after the group, keeping a few steps behind, carefully watching the others as they perused the stalls, his eyes trained on Eri and Shinsou and the rest, smile bright, though his eyes betrayed a thoughtful hesitation on his part. 

Toshi knew something had been bothering the boy, eating at him lately. He’d assumed it’d been missing his mother. 

But now? 

The former ‘Symbol of Peace’ turned back towards Naomasa with a hard look. 

“What rumors?” he queried. 

Shouta knew something was off with Problem Child.

Well, ‘off’ more so than usual. 

The festival, for all intents and purposes, had gone well enough. Eri had been doted on, cared for, and made to feel like she was the center of attention. 

Because she was. 

But apart from the strange behavior of one odd detective (and Shouta was certain Nezu was behind that issue, and he would get to the bottom of it), nothing had been too out of the ordinary, for which the underground hero was thankful. 

After the night prior, the man was glad for a small reprieve from the stressors of the hectic chaos that seemed to follow Problem Child around. 

However, despite the almost idyllic nature of the evening, or, rather, in spite of it, Shouta couldn’t help but notice a few oddities with Midoriya’s behavior, things that set the man on edge and made him worry about Problem Child just a little bit. Because with each question he attempted to ask when they were side by side, with each interaction they had one with another, and with each attempt the man made to get the kid to move outside the tentative shell he was hiding within, Shouta was met with hesitant resistance and sheer avoidance. 

It seemed Problem Child was trying his damndest to keep as far away from him as possible.

And that sort of set the man ill at ease and exacerbated the agitation Shouta felt for this whole situation. 

Shouta wasn’t one to sit idly by and watch others suffer. He hated it, in fact. And Izuku Midoriya was suffering.

Though the kid would never admit it. No. The kid never admitted when he was hurting, physically or emotionally. 

Which was somewhat problematic. 

Which made it that much harder to help him. 

But lately…?

The man sighed as he watched the boy, with his back turned towards the stove, standing next to Hizashi, as the pair finished up the last bit of the hot pot for tonight’s dinner. Soft murmurs passed between the voice hero and his charge. 

A smile was gently directed towards the boy, who seemed far too serious as he tilted his head towards his task of organizing the vegetables. They were trying to hurry, trying to get everything together before Eri and Kayama and Hitoshi got back from the shops with cocoa. 

(A sound excuse to get the girl out while they finished setting up for her party, Shouta knew.)

“It’s okay, listener.” ‘Zashi noted softly, “Looks fantastic ‘as is’. No need for fancy fuss here. It’s just us!”

There was a beat of silence and Shouta could almost see the wheel turning in the boy’s head as he seemed to consider ‘Zashi’s word’s, trying to reconcile them with his own thoughts and feelings.  

“It’s just…” the boy hedged after a moment, fiddling with a few wayward pieces of tofu, “it’s…her birthday so I want it to be nice.” 

Fingers continued to move, arranging, and rearranging some of the vegetables on the tray as Hizashi continued to stir the broth in preparation to transfer to the small electric skillet and pot they’d take to the table. 

“This is her first real party. It’s…important.” 

Problem Child’s voice was quiet, his words thoughtful as his head remained bowed towards the vegetables on the plate, the mushrooms, now, seeming to give him pause as his hands stilled, fingers hovering. Shouta watched, silently, as Hizashi turned more fully to the boy, catching his look of concern briefly before giving the boy a soft smile. 

Shouta was struck by a similar notion that’d been spoken not too long ago by that same boy, about three little kittens. 

‘They deserved to know someone cared.’ 

‘She deserved to know someone cared.’

It made sense that Problem Child’s focus would circle back towards the girl’s welfare about being remembered, being cared for. 

Especially after what he’d seen today, what he’d heard her whisper towards the boy, when she should no one else could hear. 

As though, it was her Deku that could understand and would answer her and make it better. 

Her Deku who would still be that hero she needed to help her feel brave. 

Help her remember she mattered. 

‘You’ve always been important, Eri. You’ve always been special.’

“I think what Eri loves most about today, listener, is spending time with those who care about her.” Hizashi intoned quietly, setting his stirring spoon down, as he gently nudged Izuku’s shoulder. This forced the boy to turn to face the blonde, tilting his head to meet the man’s gaze head on. “You and Shou and ‘Toshi have shown that in lots of ways. Made her feel loved. That is what she’s gonna remember. That is what’s gonna be the most important thing to her.” 

“Everyone deserves to feel special, especially on their birthday,” Problem Child remarked instantly, his voice rising in that familiar way when he wanted to emphasize a point. In the brief moment when Shouta could glimpse the boy’s face, see the freckled cheeks pinched into that determined frown, he noticed the spark in those emerald orbs flashing, as brightly as if the boy were facing down a villain or engaging in a training exercise. 

‘Such a familiar spark’ the man noted silently, a ghost of a smile slipping over his lips as tucked his chin further into his capture weapon, leaning lightly against the door frame. 

He didn’t want to ruin that flare of conviction, didn’t want to spoil the moment, the contentedness that the boy finally seemed to feel. There was a lightness in his movements now, a small pushback against the weight and shadow of weariness the boy’d been carrying all day, and Shouta would be damned if he was going to screw that up by interjecting and bursting the bubble. 

‘Let them have the peace,’ he thought, silently slipping towards the hall and down to his room. ‘Let him have a break.’  

He’d figure out a way to get through to the kid. 

Just not yet.

All in all, Izuku considered the day to be a good one. 

Eri’s smile was a constant reminder that he’d succeeded, to some degree, to make it so and that tempered any ill feelings that he might have had about how things had turned out for himself today. 

What he lacked.

How he failed.

It didn’t matter so much in the end, just so long as Eri was happy. 

Now, sitting here, after a long evening of perusing shops and stalls and purchasing a few trinkets and charms, the boy basked in the clamoring of dishes and the smells of familiar comfort foods for the solstice dinner as he watched Aizawa-Sensei help Eri to work through the hot pot to pick out her favorite bits to nibble on while Mic-Sensei and Shinsou and Kayama-Sensei remained in conversation to his right, chattering about the next set of entrance exams and the prospects for new students coming into the hero courses and when Shinsou could expect to start his own training as an official 1A student. 

All Might hadn’t returned for the evening, sending his regrets that something of importance had come up that required his immediate attention but ensuring that he’d be back later on in the evening. 

So Izuku remained the odd one out.  Not that he minded really. He was used to this sort of situation anyway. 

Sometimes the boy would offer a few comments if a question were directed towards him, or if he were asked to pass the rice closer, for instance, but mostly, Izuku was left to his own devices, content to bask in the solitude of his own thoughts, well aware that he was not quite needed for this part of the evening, but still able to enjoy the calm it afforded. 

And if Eri did want him for anything, did need him to do anything, well, he was close by.

“Problem Child.” 

Izuku turned his attention, somewhat hesitantly, towards Aizawa-Sensei, knowing it would be rude (in front of so many) to downright ignore his teacher, even though he wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor and pretend the man didn’t exist. 

A tentative gaze reached upward and met an inquiring one as Izuku turned towards his teacher waiting for the man to speak. 

Without a word the man reached out and gently reached forward and nudged a small trinket into the boy’s hand, forcing Izuku to set his chopsticks aside in favor of accepting the small gift. 

With a surprised huff, the boy stared at the man whose neutral expression gave nothing away, before he took a chance to peer down at his hand, spying a charm from the temple, with its intricate blue and gold script along its front contrasting the dark blue backdrop, the sky-blue tassel delicately curled over his fingers. 

Izuku frowned, clearly confused and not quite sure how to take this proffered gift as he returned his attention to his Sensei. It’s not that the charm itself was wholly unique. Izuku had certainly seen plenty of them at the festival as they’d perused the stall. 

These ones had been a bit pricier and Izuku had foregone them in favor of the cheaper ones. But, he just wasn’t sure why he was on the receiving end of this charm from Aizawa-Sensei, who smiled somewhat wryly now at Izuku and returned to eating as though nothing was out of the ordinary about the exchange at all. 

As though he hadn’t done anything to warrant confusion. But now, staring at the the item, he couldn't overlook the bubble of questions lodged in his chest

“Sensei, I don’t…” He swallowed, searching for his word, trying to understand what was going on, and why he was suddenly the center of the man’s focus. 

And why the man even cared. 

‘That’s no excuse.’ 

‘He deserved better.’ 

Which was it? 

“What’s this for?” He muttered quietly, meeting the man’s gaze with a curious and inquiring one of his own. The boy gently lowered his hands so his Sensei couldn’t see the way his hands shook.

Why were his hands shaking anyway?

He’d spent all day trying to forget and push things aside, so why did this matter? He could just forget this too. He could just…he could just let this go and pretend like it wasn’t a big deal. 

It was just a little charm, right? Nothing serious. Nothing important.

“Consider it a chaos charm, if you will.” 

The boy felt his ears burn lightly at the jibe, and the small uptick of the man’s smile as he nodded towards Izuku in a kind way, before he tilted his head and muttered. 

“And in that same spirit of containing chaos, Problem, Child, I may need your help.” 

Confusion doubled down as the boy quirked a brow upward and blinked at his teacher. 

His…help?

Shouta sighed and set the plates down, the music drowning out the conversation as the pair of them set to the task of clearing some of the food away, clearing the clutter so that they might enjoy the rest of the solstice evening. 

Part of him wanted to curse ‘Zashi for convincing him to ask Problem Child to help in the task (knowing the kid would never refuse the opportunity to help). But part of him wanted to thank the man, really because…

Well because this wasn’t going to work, this tension. The boy was walking stiffly, moving as though he were standing on eggshells, eyes drawn downward, gaze faraway and contemplative, as though he wanted nothing to do with his Sensei, and preferred to ignore his very existence. 

And beneath the facade and bravado of the indifference he tried to play off in his actions and attitude, Shouta could see the hesitation and fear lurking there. A deeper sadness remained in the boy’s movements, in the way his brows drew together and in how he chewed on his bottom lip. 

The kid seemed to want to say something as much as he seemed terrified or sickened by the thought of it as well. 

Ever since he’d walked into the kitchen this morning, he’d seen that shadow and he’d known that Izuku wasn’t quite okay, wasn’t feeling himself, but he’d yet to actually approach the boy about the issue. 

Especially since he was near certain the issue involved Shouta. 

And really, Shouta, too, had been riding the wave of agitation, he could admit to that. His talk with ‘Zashi had tempered things some, had made the man think about the best way to approach helping the boy, assisting through the confusion of this whole big mess of things the kid had yet to admit to. But it had actually been the talk with Toshinori Yagi that’d made the man think, question and truly consider what was best for Izuku, what was best for the boy’s welfare. 

How best to help the kid? 

‘I was quirkless too, you know.’ 

That admission, from the former number one hero? That soft comment, given so easily, so quietly and calmly had thrown Shouta. It was certainly something that tamped down the anger he felt flaring in his chest at the ‘not knowing’ (at least marginally) and made him consider just how and why Yagi and Midoriya related to one another. 

Both quirkless until such a late age. 

Both anomalies. 

What were the odds of that? 

Shouta reached for a few of the plates and began to slowly scrape off the meager scraps from the dishes, as he pondered what to say to the boy who worked slowly to place the hotpot leftovers to warm on the stove, should the others be hungry a little later, since festivities would last well into the evening. Having returned from the temple and shrugged himself into a dark hoodie and jeans, the boy looked like he was trying to sink into the confines of the material if to do nothing more than to avoid making eye contact with his Sensei. 

Shouta wondered why that was. 

And he was reaching the point where he couldn’t really let this go any longer.

It wasn’t helping either of them.

“Kid,” he began after a moment, testing the waters, trying to gauge the situation and understand. He noted the hesitant expression on the boy’s face as verdant curls bounced when the boy’s face turned, wide eyes flashing with concern at being addressed again. “Is there something bothering you?” 

Well, nothing like being forthright… 

The boy balked at the question and blinked a few times, almost as though he was certain he'd been more covert at hiding his feelings than that. 

"I…" the boy set a dish down near the sink of soapy water, where Shouta was prepping to wash, gaze shining with inner turmoil. 

"I'm alright...Sensei."

Shouta sighed and shook his head lightly at the remark, noting how utterly 'Midoriya' a remark it was and just how problematic that could be. 

But demanding an answer seemed to be the wrong course of action. 

The man drew up the sleeves of his shirt and sank his hands into the warm, sudsy water and tried again. 

"Eri seemed to like her hair pin."

At this he received a small nod in reply and a wistful smile that almost reached his eyes as the boy seemed to recall the girl's earlier excitement at the trinket. 

Shouta, too, couldn't remove the small smile from his face at the memory, and the tender hug the girl had thrown at her hero as a sign of gratitude for something so simple, yet thoughtful, as that first birthday gift. 

Shouta wondered if Problem Child ever saw the same significance in his actions that others did. If he saw the value and weight in his thoughtfulness, or just wrote off his natural care as something simple and useless. 

Something ordinary. 

Especially when it was far from it. 

"You know," the underground hero hummed, as his hands worked through the water, "It's often the small things that make the most impact on people." 

Shouta cast a sidelong glance towards the boy, catching the confusion with a firm look of his own. 

"Don't undersell the good you've done for someone just by being you."

"But being me isn't being a hero."

The boy clamped his mouth shut in short order, eyes wide in shock as both he and Shouta stared at one another in surprise at the open admission. 

Izuku Midoriya was never this open. 

And that was somewhat concerning because Shouta would wager that this comment, this idea had been eating at him all day (probably longer, too) and he’d let it fester in the silence, trying to tamp down the emotions until the thought had burbled upwards without much control on the boy’s part. 

‘Much like a quirk would.’ 

Ironic. 

Hastily that same boy, with pale face, quickly averted his eyes and returned his attention to the dishes, a small apology falling from his lips for the outburst. 

“I’m sorry Sensei,” he remarked, “It won’t happen again.” 

And Shouta didn’t like that. 

Not at all. 

“Why the fuck not?” The man retorted, “You’re allowed to say how you feel, Midoriya,” He rumbled, “Good and bad.” 

This earned a soft, almost derisive snort from the boy, who barely lifted his head to acknowledge that his teacher had spoken.

It was so out of character for the kid that it had Shouta stopping altogether to simply watch the child, concern rising. 

“That’s no excuse,” The boy muttered softly. “I shouldn’t have said it.” 

The man removed his hands from the water and set to drying them slowly on the towel at the edge of the sink. With a brief flicker towards the living room to ensure that they weren’t overheard, the underground hero snorted as the familiar phrase struck a chord within him. 

Of course. 

Of course, it’d be this way. 

A light went off. 

Understanding finally flared. 

And Shouta realized he was a fucking idiot. 

‘That’s no excuse.’ 

The man bent his head and let out a soft shake as he too sighed deeply and considered how to proceed with a conversation he wasn’t anticipating having right now. 

“You overheard” He noted simply, after a moment, peering down on the boy whose gaze remained fixed on the floor. “The conversation with All Might.” 

There was a brief nod. 

And then the dam burst. 

“I’m sorry I never told you that I was…” The kid swallowed, shoulders hunching as he tried to word the frustration he felt. “That I wasn’t…I’m just…I know there’s no excuse for it and that it was stupid, but I just…I couldn’t…”

The man held up his hand to silence the kid, letting it fall on the boy’s shoulder to still the flurried, frustrated words and angry intonations that seemed directed more towards himself than they were Shouta. 

“Problem Child,” He hummed, “Listen,” 

“I know there’s no excuse” The boy repeated the phrase again, to which the man shook his head. 

“You misunderstood, kid,” The underground hero retorted, “You misunderstood what I was talking about.” 

Izuku didn’t know how to handle what the hell was going on. 

He promised himself he wouldn’t let his emotions get the better of him today. 

He promised he wouldn’t let this bother him and then…

Then he opened his fucking mouth and those words just slipped out and just…

They just…

Today was supposed to be about Eri. 

About the Solstice. 

And families. 

And not about Izuku’s wounded pride. 

He should just learn to keep his mouth shut. He should just…

“Do you remember the USJ, Midoriya?” 

The boy balked at the question directed his way, the offhanded nature of Aizawa-Sensei’s inquiry as the man continued to hold the boy’s attention with his hand on Izuku’s shoulder. 

Did he remember the USJ?

Was Aizawa-Sensei…? Was he serious? 

How could he forget? 

“Well, yeah,” He rumbled, “How could I forget that?” 

That was their first real training exercise. 

That was their first villain attack.

That was also when Aizawa-Sensei had…

The boy hazarded a glance towards the scar beneath the underground hero’s eye and winced at the memory. This earned a nod of understanding from the man who grinned, almost bitterly. 

Izuku didn’t know why the man would be bitter though. He was a hero. He’d saved all of them. 

‘You’re so cool, Eraser.’ 

That was probably the only time Izuku would agree with Shigaraki. 

“And do you remember what I told you that day, kid?” 

At that, the boy frowned, brows furrowing as he tried to recall, in the frenzied flurry of panic and anxiety, what’d actually happened. 

He recalled reaching out to Aizawa-Sensei about the fact that he was the wrong type of hero for the type of fight they were facing. 

And he remembered Aizawa-Sensei shrugging and adjusting his goggles before giving a grin. 

“A hero can’t just have one trick, kid.” 

The man nodded in affirmation as the words fell from Izuku’s lips and the memory that sparked as he spoke them. 

Despite not being the right hero for the type of fight he faced, Aizawa–Eraserhead–had held his own quite well. 

But Izuku didn’t understand how that related to him. It didn’t quite make sense why his Sensei would care to remind him of this now when they were talking about the issue with him being…

‘Not a worthy successor.’ 

‘A liar.’ 

The man drew away and returned back to the dishes, letting his hands return to the water as he slowly started to scrub the few plates they’d used during the meal. 

“During my hero training, we went on a few internships and during that time, I was…less than successful in my endeavors to be a hero.” 

The man’s gaze was trained on the soapy water, his voice remained neutral, lips barely moving as he continued to ease the scrubber over the first dish, wiping away the remnants of dinner. 

“It’s never easy when your quirk isn’t built for hard hits or combat. You have to get…creative. I had to get good at fighting quirkless.” 

The man let out his own bitter sort of snort as he started to rinse that first dish, setting it into the dish rack before turning towards the next in the line of dirty dishes. 

“When I was training during my hero studies, I had to push myself to be better than the opinions of others, and their perception of what a ‘hero’ was supposed to look like.” 

At this the man turned back towards the boy, his gaze thoughtful as his hands paused in the soapy mess. 

“Your worth isn’t tied to a quirk status” Aizawa-Sensei remarked evenly, “You deserved better than that.” 

The boy fumbled over his words, trying to piece together coherent sentence as he stared back at his Sensei, a mixture of mistrust and exhaustion lingering there. 

Shouta understood that look. And he hated that he understood it so well. 

He hated it all the more that Izuku understood the feeling that produced that look and those emotions. 

The man shook his head again and squeezed the kid’s shoulder lightly, in a manner he hoped was reassuring. 

“You deserved better,” He hummed softly, “In many ways, kid. And what happened, what was left unsaid, there was no excuse for it. It wasn’t your fault.” 

‘You deserved better, Problem Child.’ 

“But I’m…I was…” The boy struggled to find the words, to admit the truth of what was going on, what’d happened. 

The hurt that he’d buried. 

Again, Shouta shook his head. 

‘You can’t treat him any different, Shou.’ 

“You don’t have to tell me now, kid.” he replied. “You can talk when you’re ready. Just know,” The man let out a soft huff. “There’ll be someone to listen.” 

‘You can trust me.’ 

There were a few moments of silence, the soft laughter in the living room mixing with the Christmas music echoing through the speakers as water sloshed around Shouta’s wrists. 

“Thank you, Sensei.” 

Shouta could only really nod in return, unsure of what to say or how to say what he really needed to say in order to get the boy to understand the situation properly. 

There was still a long way to go. 

A lot to unpack and understand. 

But he hoped…

The man continued to wash the dishes as Problem Child came to stand on alongside him, starting the process of drying.

The tension seemed a little lighter, at least for now. 

Shouta nodded again. 

‘I’ll be here, kid. I’ll always be here.’