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After the whirlwind that was adopting their son, Hizashi never thought he'd have another child. Hitoshi is his pride and joy, and he'd never regret taking him in when he had nowhere else to go. The years that followed were difficult, though, and Hizashi and Shouta aren't getting any younger. Their hero careers have already started winding down in lieu of their more stable, less physically draining jobs as teachers.
Taking in another child of any variety was simply out of the cards for them, no matter how many times they tried to justify it as a possibility. They're nearly forty now and their son comes and goes as he pleases, preferring to crash at their place in-between international jobs. If they were to have another kid, now would be the ideal time.
But that ideal is glass half full, at best. Being parents is the most rewarding thing either of them have ever done, but it's just as difficult as it is wonderful. Hitoshi ran them through the ringer, and making it out to have the family they do now took work neither of them are sure they can handle anymore. A couple of cats and their class full of ambitious, troublemaking students are more than enough to keep them busy; anything else and their hearts would give out.
Which is precisely why they shouldn't have taken in yet another traumatized teenager. But the circumstances were precarious and neither of them have the heart to turn away a child in need. Hizashi is too impulsive, agreeing to anything that sounds well-meaning regardless of how badly it might affect him, and Shouta is too much of a sap, wearing a bleeding heart on his sleeve whenever a victim of circumstance is involved.
The girl's name is Eri, and her story is tragic. She grew up within the depths of the yakuza, horrifically abused and traumatized for all fourteen years of her life, and recovered as a witness during one of the many raids on the Shie Hassaikai bases littered around Japan. She needed protection and a place to hide while the justice system does its job. Who better than a couple of trauma informed Pro Heroes to stash her with?
Good idea in theory, less so in practice. Hizashi and Shouta agreed to take the girl, but it took months before they made any headway with her. Fourteen is a shitty age for the most adjusted of kiddos, and for a teenage girl riddled with abuse at the hands of her brother, moving in with two strange men and their constantly visiting adult son had been a nightmare. But, just like Hitoshi, she eventually started settling in and stopped jumping so much around them.
It's not perfect, though, even now. Eri is currently fifteen and in her first year of high school—the same age Hitoshi had been when they met him.
(Hizashi tries not to cry at the passage of time, at just how much their little boy has grown.)
The court case requiring her witness statement has long since passed, but she's still staying with them until she's old enough to decide whether she needs further protection into her adult life. She's in extensive therapy, seeing her therapist twice a week, and she's doing her best in school. It's better than they could've asked for, considering how horrible those first six months were for her. Her relationship with her caretakers, however, is lukewarm, at best.
She's certainly gotten used to them, but in the way one gets used to the terrible taste in music their best friend has or the smell of their cat doing business in a litter box. It's hard for Hizashi to say that they've really come together as a family unit—because they haven't. Eri prefers avoiding them as much as possible and they aren't going to force her into something she isn't interested in.
But she isn't any less wanted because of it. There's always that cliche you hear from parents claiming their family wasn't completed until their most recent kid, and Hizashi would love to say he and Shouta are exempt from the cheesy one liners of feel-good family films. Fortunately, that feeling of your life clicking into place with each added piece is very real and it's impossible to imagine a world where they don't have the quiet, frowny girl lurking in the halls of their home.
She's in the living room now, sitting on the floor and pressed against the corner where the couch meets the wall. There's a movie on the television, something musical and animated about demonic pop stars, and she's dressed in a fuzzy winter onesie with a disgruntled kitty trapped in her arms. It's a very cute scene, one that makes Hizashi smile from the kitchen where he's preparing a snack board for her.
He always wanted to be around kids, either as a teacher or as the fun uncle in his community. He loved volunteering for different school events early into his hero career and there's a reason he tries so hard to make his morning and afternoon slots for 'Put Your Hands Up' as child friendly as he can. He loves kids, even when he knows he falls short with them, and fatherhood had always been a distant pipe dream, something he thought unattainable with his status.
To have and raise his son has been the greatest joy, even above the years he spent sleepless and working hard to launch his radio show. He couldn't ask for a better kid, and he couldn't love that boy more if he tried. There's something equally as beautiful about having a girl, too; something Hizashi hadn't realized until Eri's name was uttered by the detective and he had to make a mad dash to the store to stock their guest room full of things their house of boys had never needed.
But daughter is such a strong word with layers upon layers of baggage and meaning. He doesn't want to give that title to her if she doesn't want it, even when it's hard not to because he wants it—because he's wanted it for years before he and Shouta even got married. She needs love, not expectation, and he can only hope they'll grow closer in time.
For now, he counts his blessings. Things with Eri aren't all doom and gloom. There is one light, one aspect to her that helps bridge the gap between them: her regression.
It's something they noticed early on. She had a lot of… we'll call them emotional breakdowns when she first moved in with them. She, very understandably, didn't like men and, by the time anyone realized, she was already in their home and no one assigned to her case thought it was a good idea to move her around. God knows why. Hizashi fought hard to try and find and more suitable replacement, but they were met with wall after wall. The only thing they could do was keep Nemuri in the house on her days off, and that only did so much.
This amounted to moments of abject fear where the little listener clearly dropped in her motor control, her speech patterns, and even her bodily functions if it was bad enough. A skill regression that turned mental.
No one expects a child who went through the horrors she did to come out unscathed, but it is devastating to see the long term effects nonetheless.
He and Shouta have worked hard to give her space to regress when she needs it and they've been slowly, subtly trying to push her to do it when she doesn't need it too. It's good that she has something to turn to when her emotions are too much and she's bursting at the seams, it would just be better if she could indulge in the more enjoyable aspects of her headspace along with it. Like being able to play, or experience childhood memories that she never got to have, or just allow herself to be comforted by people who love her.
It, like everything else, is not all it's cracked up to be. It's combining all the worst parts of having a toddler and a teenager with very little good to back it up. As he said, they're getting older and this kind of thing is getting harder to keep up with. But Hizashi is nothing if not persistent, and he'd rather die than give up on her.
"Okay, I got strawberries, I got mikan, I got melon and pear, I got matcha cookies, I got strawberry Pocky, and I got a bunch of different meats from a platter I already threw away so I have no idea what any of them are," Hizashi lists off, setting the board on the coffee table with a flourish.
She watches him with wary eyes. It only takes her a few seconds to reach for the snacks, though, which is progress. It took a long time before she even accepted food from them that wasn't still in its packaging—proof it wasn't tampered with. She nibbles on a cookie like a little mouse, eyes drawn back to her movie.
It's her favorite right now, but she never once smiles while watching it. Hizashi does. He sings along to the lyrics and keeps the energy chipper. It's musical whiplash to go from the upbeat tempo of the film to Eri's grim expression and he tries to meet it in the middle as best he can.
"Shouta should be back soon," he reminds her, popping a slice of strawberry into his mouth. Dad tax. "Well, not soon, soon. Maybe an hour. His meetings with Vlad always run a little long. They can't help throwin' in encore after encore—to an audience of just themselves." Hizashi snickers, picturing his poor husband trapped in a too long heated debate for the Hero Course's curriculum.
"An hour?" Eri asks, so muted he's only able to understand it with his quirked hearing.
"Yup!" He pops the P. "Though, if you're wantin' some extra time on air with your favorite ambiguously parental guardian," Hizashi gestures his hands dramatically to himself, "I don't mind sendin' him on a wild goose chase! A couple eggs from the market down the street, new guitar strings across town, some old cat toys from Nemuri's. He never has to know."
He whispers that last part with waggling eyebrows, drawing some amusement to her eyes and the briefest flicker of her lips.
It's as much of an olive branch as it is a joke. Eri is getting better with interacting one on one with them, but she still gets nervous when they're both in the house at the same time. Throw in Hitoshi and they wonder if it might still be better for her to find somewhere new to live. Somewhere she can actually feel safe in.
He shakes the thought out of his head. It's too late for that. She's settled in and ripping her from their arms is only going to set her back at square one. That's not a song any of them are interested in looping.
She less nervous about it when she's regressed, though, so that's a positive. Or rather, she's usually less nervous about it. Right now, she's pale and shaking, seconds from jumping out of her skin.
Eri fidgets and adorably rubs her face against her knees in a self-soothing motion. There's a far off look in her eye and she brings one of her hands up to twirl her hair around her finger—her version of Hitoshi's iconic neck scratch. If he were Shouta, he'd just wait her out and let her come to him with whatever has her so worked up. It worked well with Hitoshi, who hated being confronted with anything before he was ready, but it's a little less effective with a girl who hates confrontation no matter what.
And Hizashi gets too antsy waiting for things to happen. If he knows something, or even suspects it, he can't hold it in. It needles him, poking at the side of his head until he's forced to address it. You might think that'd be even worse for Eri, and it probably would be if Hizashi was an amateur, but he knows how to do these things tastefully.
"What's got that record spinnin' in your noggin, little listener?" He sprawls out and taps his temple, as close to her as he dares to get. "I can hear it all the way from here and it's—hmm…" Hizashi leans in a bit closer and tilts his head, listening. "What is that? Cool rock? Jazz? Oh, wait, no. I know what it is! It's Panic! in the living room corner!"
A terrible joke, especially by his standards, and barely even constitutes as one since there's no real punchline—but the face Eri makes, crunched up and bewildered from a reference way before her time, is enough to make him crack up. He smacks his knee with a guffaw and only settles down when Eri starts shuffling out of her corner.
"Aww, honey, I didn't mean you had to move—" he starts, cut off by a warm weight pressing up against him.
Hizashi is sitting on the floor, against the couch, with his legs beneath the coffee table and his elbows resting on the cushions. It's the perfect perch for the cats, who enjoy grooming his freshly washed hair, and the perfect position for little Eri to curl into his side.
"Oh, hi there, sweetheart," Hizashi murmurs, glancing around with wide, panicked eyes as if someone might spawn out of the nothingness of his living room and gawk at the sight before him. She likes her guardians more when she's small, but that never equates to being more affectionate with them. At best, she might agree to hold their hand if she's regressed in public. This is uncharted territory.
"If you listen closer, you'll actually hear K-pop," she whispers, shoulders taut and eyes staring at the television screen.
She's equally as anxious, with a hard dose of discomfort that Hizashi can't begin to understand on a personal level. Her aversion to touch is worse than Hitoshi's and if he so much as breathes, she jolts with the movement. He tries to keep himself as still as possible.
"Right, of course," Hizashi says. The record in his brain is skipping so much that he can't recognize the tune no matter how hard he tries. He surveys her closely, like an interviewee on his show—or a victim he has to comfort.
For all the differences between Eri and Hitoshi, there is one melody they've both taken from the same song. They try to put as much distance as they possibly can between them and the world while simultaneously hovering as closely as they can, either to keep track of every threat in the space or to substitute affection with vague acknowledgement.
If she's pushing past her usual boundaries, she must be smaller than he thought. It can be hard to guess the state of her headspace. If it's not triggered by a breakdown, Eri doesn't act much different when regressed. However, there are some ways to tell: she's much more sensitive so it's easier to make her cry or scare her, and she's just a touch clingier. Pun intended.
They aren't obvious, by any means—Hizashi and Shouta have missed the subtle signs of it more than once—but they're visible enough for him to see the signs now. She gnaws on her bottom lip and her entire body flexes every few seconds, like a cat flinching away from the lightest of contacts.
"Are you…" Hizashi trails off, hitting a hot rewind on the stupid question he's about to ask. One wrong move, one wrong word, and she'll flee. When Eri looks at him expectantly, he smooths the grimace from his face and hopes for the best. "Do you wanna cuddle, sweetheart?"
Before he's even finishes the question, she's shaking her head so quickly it tussles her hair.
"Okay! Okay, no problem, sunshine," he responds, a bit hasty, with a laugh to defuse the tension in her shoulders. "You're all good as you are. Just wanted to offer it just in case, y'know? It's whatever you want, baby! I'm cool with an armful of snuggles or just broadcastin' telepathic ones."
To prove his point, he puts his fingers to his temples and gives his best impression of a man suffering from severe constipation as he sends her as many mental hugs as she needs. Eri doesn't giggle like the kids he's used to charming, but she relaxes against him, pauses, and then replicates his motion—albeit with a much cuter scrunch of her nose.
"Are you sendin' them back?" Hizashi asks, beating down the swelling in his chest with a stick.
Eri nods slowly and states, "You like hugs."
The stick snaps in half and impales itself into his lungs.
"Yeah," he says quietly, voice wavering. "Yeah, I do. But it's okay if you don't! Everyone deserves a snuggle, but it's no biggie if ya don't want it. Shouta tells me not to hug him all the time, and I respect it 'cause I love him."
It's a bit on the nose, but he hopes she can read between the lines. The wheels are certainly turning in her head again, this time playing a soft melody alongside the movie that's been left forgotten.
Hizashi lets her take whatever time she needs, sensing the fragility of the space between them. He soaks in the pressure of her curled up against him, hoping it'll last forever and knowing there's a real chance he won't have her this close again for a long while.
"If I…" she starts and he leans in with an encouraging nod. "If I wanted one… what happens?"
Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Oh, shit-fuck.
It's happening—it's finally happening.
A shaky exhale leaves him and he gingerly puts a hand on her back. He doesn't move it, even as she tenses up again. He just leaves it there, easy to pull away from.
"If you wanted a hug, I'd give you one. No questions asked, whenever you want," Hizashi answers. "Rain, shine, day, night. Hell, I'll come runnin' in the middle of the school day if I have to."
Another pause as she thinks.
"And… if I wanted one right now…?"
"I'm open arms, baby," Hizashi says and demonstrates by giving her some space on his lap. "Though, I'd prolly ask to move up there," he gestures lazily to the couch, "'cause I'm not as hip and spry as I used to be. Sittin' on the floor is bad for my old man bones."
Eri lets out a huff through her nose, the closest thing to a laugh he can get out of her.
"How old are you?" she asks, tilting her head.
"Twenty-seven," he says, lightning quick. He lets her stall. "How old are you?"
She grabs a grape and chews on it for a bit. "… twenty-six."
Hizashi snickers. So she's six then.
"Incredible," he says earnestly. "Great age for—" Hizashi stops himself. He was about to say doing drugs, a real truth about his early to mid-twenties, but that's more material for teen Eri. "For takin' naps." he decides instead.
She seems to agree because she uses the moment to pull herself onto the couch and avert her eyes, the request clear. Not one to let a little listener down, Hizashi wiggles his way up for the least amount of bone popping and settles at the end with his back melting into the cushions and his head on the armrest.
"I can turn over and you can lay right here," Hizashi says, mining out a simple spooning position. He figures it might be easier for her to handle if her back is to him and she can put space between their bodies.
The panicked, "No!" she lets out proves otherwise.
Eri, cowering at his feet, stares back at him with wet eyes the size of saucers. She looks ready to bolt again, shoulders hunched and finger desperately twirling her hair. She tugs on it harshly every few seconds and it takes everything in Hizashi not to sit up and try to stop her.
"Okay," he responds with the same tone he uses to calm the kitties during a storm. "Up to you, sunshine. I won't move a muscle. Do whatever you need to."
He wants to offer her the safety of her room, but they learned very quickly that she, like Hitoshi, interprets that as an order to go away. If she wants to leave, she can. If she doesn't, he won't accidentally make her.
It takes a long time. Hizashi stays true to his word and stays as still as he can. His eyes move to watch the movie as it reaches its conclusion, but he never lets Eri fully out of sight. Its only when the movie ends fifteen minutes later that he moves, and it's only to grab the remote by his head and hit replay. Has it driven him and Shouta insane to hear the same fourteen songs over and over again? Sure, but it's worth it when the familiar starting scene opens and it invites her closer.
She shuffles over at a snail's pace and Hizashi pretends not to notice. If he even dares to turn his head, she'll scamper away. Adorably, she tends to have the baby logic of thinking people can only see her if they're looking straight at her. More often than not, she ends up hiding beneath blankets or piles of laundry because she thinks no one can see her. So, he stares at the screen like he's never seen this movie before and is as enraptured by it as Eri is. Finally, she stops.
Hizashi has always known Eri was small. She grew up locked in a room, being broken down and remade. She's a little skinnier than her peers, a little shorter. But he doesn't realize the extent of it until she lays with her cheek against his chest and her legs on top of his.
Her hands clutch his shirt on either side of her head with the tip of her thumb slowly making its way into her mouth to self-sooth from the trauma trembling through her. He can feel her thudding heartbeat, rapid and terrified, and he's surprised she hasn't passed out from how little she's breathing in.
Still, he's never been so proud of her.
Tears blur his vision, but he keeps them at bay. Now isn't the time to revel in this milestone. He can do that later, in the safety of his bedroom while his husband bullies him for being so emotional. His focus now is keeping the momentum going.
He sings along to the songs quietly, using his quirk in the opposite direction to make sure he's a background singer with a nice rumble. He keeps his breathing steady and intentional, which encourages her to match the rhythm the longer her weightless form rises and falls with his chest.
At some point, she shifts and nuzzles into him, relaxing enough that he takes a chance to start stroking her hair. When she doesn't flinch, he rests his head back and closes his eyes with the exhaustion of a battle well fought. This is it. This is what it means to be a father and precisely why he loves it.
A baby-soft, warm weight on top of him. A movie playing in his ear that he's heard so many times he could recite each line of dialogue in two different languages. Snacks he dutifully prepared left ignored on the table.
Every struggle he and Shouta have had to get here is made worth it by this moment. It won't last long because she's sure to run away once the front door opens, but whether its five seconds or five minutes, it's still longer than anything she's gotten before. If he could, Hizashi would wrap her in a blanket and never let go because that's his little girl and she deserves so much more than he could ever give her.
One day, he hopes she'll realize how much they love her. One day, he hopes he can call her his daughter out loud. Maybe one day soon.