Chapter Text
When quirks started appearing, so started soulmates. It has nothing to do with romance, and not nearly everyone has a soulmate. No one knows why, or how the pairs are assigned, but very soon it became a norm, like quirks.
If a child is in an unhealthy situation, if they need a guardian, someone to take care of them, they will get assigned a soulmate. Someone older than them, starts feeling the pain they feel, anything physical from the scrape of a knee to the most excruciating things, the soul-guardian shares.
Soulmates end up always finding each other, no matter how long it takes, it will somehow happen. Those with soulmates have never been able to describe it, there is nothing that the feeling can be compared to. All they can say is that when they see their other half, they just know and it’s the best feeling in the world.
Hizashi was seventeen, in class in UA, when he first felt something that he shouldn't, a bruising grip on his wrist. Except there was nothing there. He immediately knew, he’d always been obsessed with the thought of soulmates and loved to hear the happy stories.
He immediately told Shouta and Oboro when class ended.
“Well, if any of us was ever going to become a guardian, it was going to be you”, Shouta had grumbled. It filled Hizashi with pride, his friend thinks he is going to be a good parent. He was overjoyed with the whole situation, already dreaming of meeting his kid, already imagining how they would be.
Too soon reality smacked him in the face. Because if Hizashi has a soul-child, that means there is a child who is treated so badly that the universe decided they need a new guardian. More often than not Hizashi ended up crying himself to sleep when his whole body ached with phantom pains, though he couldn’t care less about his own discomfort, not when somewhere out there was a kid experiencing the most excruciating things.
It was almost daily, the pain never stopped, never ended, no, it only got worse as years passed. Hizashi never hid his pain from those close to him, he had no reason to even hesitate to let his friends know how his heart aches for his child. But also, he got very good at pushing the aches to the back of his mind when he had to focus on something important, more often than not his job as a hero.
Seven years passed with more and more pain, more and more tears. Hizashi got almost desperate to find his kid, before something unfixable happened. He’s heard stories of soulmates finding each other when it was already too late. It would ruin him if that happened.
-
Hizashi makes sure to be silent as he moves through alleyways, keeping his ears open for trouble, eyes sharp as he scans his surroundings. Shouta had to go do some undercover work, so Hizashi offered to do his patrols for him. It’s only for a week or so, but the man is getting more and more confident about his limelight direction. He is not made for this.
It’s not like he hates underground work, but it’s definitely out of his area of expertise. Hizashi is working pretty much quirkless, and while he knows how to be quiet, it takes him a conscious effort, unlike his friend who moves like a shadow wherever he goes.
Shouta also prefers to patrol the shadier areas, places where even the police avoids going, so here Hizashi is, at the worst area of town. He agrees it’s important to help, but the amount of suffering in the place is nauseating. The man has already stumbled across a corpse, just laying there in the middle of a road, not that there are many cars here. At first he thought the person was just unconscious, that is until he moved closer and the smell hit him. Even through the other foul scents surrounding him, the smell of decomposing was immediately recognizable.
There was nothing Hizashi could do, other than notify the police and move on. The man has no idea how Shouta does this almost every night.
With silent steps Hizashi moves forward, memorizing his path. The whole place is like a maze, there is no organization, no road signs, nothing, it’s terrifyingly easy to get lost. He feels somewhat claustrophobic as he looks around, the towering, rundown buildings so tall they hide almost all the moonlight. A lot of the roads and alleyways are so tight he has to basically squeeze between them to get forward.
Suddenly he hears a slight shift above him, and immediately on alert he turns to stare up, preparing to defend himself if needed. Thankfully it’s nothing more than a person crawling on a plywood set between two buildings. They disappear through a window as quickly as they appeared.
Forcing himself to calm down, Hizashi moves on. The atmosphere of the place has his paranoia screaming and skin crawling, it’s dark and dingy, most buildings looking abandoned, like something straight from a horror movie. Occasionally when he looks to the side, he sees people in the shadows, some just staring at him, some minding their own business. Hizashi doesn’t even try to approach, like he would in any other area of the town if he saw someone just standing still in the dark, eyes empty. If they don’t ask for help or aren’t in active danger, he isn’t going to interfere. Those are the instructions Shouta gave him.
How can a place like this even exist in the modern world? How can everyone just ignore all the suffering here, pretending this whole neighborhood doesn’t even exist? Hizashi hates the society they live in, where anyone “inconvenient” just gets pushed away, out of sight, out of mind.
Carefully Hizashi sidesteps… something on the ground, it looks vaguely organic, and he proceeds to not think about it anymore. Thankfully the boots on his hero uniform are top quality, so he doesn’t have to worry about anything sharp, like the needles littered around.
He is incredibly grateful the contract that tied him to that ridiculous hero outfit ended around a year ago. He was naive and the situation was pressing, so he signed himself into that costume for three years for commercial purposes. While he was able to embrace the chaotic energy without much effort, it was very inconvenient. Who wants to fight in leather? Not to mention the directional speaker that ruined his neck and shoulders.
Now his jacket still looks like leather, but the fabric is much more suited for exercise, he is wearing cargo pants, and his undershirt is a kevlar-polyester mixture. Hizashi has also accessorised a lot, as much as he can without it becoming impractical. Unlike Shouta, he has an appreciation for looking good on top of being practical and safe.
Hizashi is forever grateful he doesn’t have to use any money on hair gel ever again, because now his hair is braided back in a french braid. Even before that contract had expired, he had tried to appeal for the permission to not have to keep his hair up like he used to, but they wouldn’t budge.
He left his speaker, a smaller version, the shape closer to a lower face mask, home, knowing he won’t be using it during an underground patrol. Hizashi does feel a bit vulnerable without it, unable to use his quirk without risking casualties now, but he knows for a fact attracting attention like that would be detrimental here.
Suddenly pain flares on Hizashi’s palms and knees. He instantly knows the pain is not his, but he still glances at his hands covered by fingerless gloves on instinct. Hizashi bites his lip, hoping that will be all of it, that the kid fell or something. Simultaneously he feels what he thinks is a kick on his side, and he hears a quiet yelp combined with someone speaking a few alleyways from where he is. It’s clear the speaker is angry, and without hesitation Hizashi moves forward, pushing the pain still throbbing on his side to the back of his mind.
The man is completely silent as he presses against one of the buildings, very carefully glancing towards where he can still hear the angry, hissed words. It’s even darker in the alley, and Hizashi has to work really hard to figure out what he is seeing. At the same time he keeps a part of his attention on his surroundings, not wanting to get jumped while being distracted. He can see the movement in the shadows, he knows he is not the only one who heard the noise. While the whole situation has been very quiet, in the eerily silent night it might as well have been straight up yelling.
“Fucking brat, what do you think you’re doing?” a person hisses, while the other one, who Hizashi can just barely see curled on their side on the ground, stays quiet, unmoving. “Answer me, you piece of shit! You know not to come here, you know not to mess with me”, they continue, their whispered words dripping with venom.
“‘m sorry- I- I-” the other person finally tries to say, but they get cut off by a scoff. Hizashi feels horror squeeze his chest when he realizes the other person is a kid. The man needs to do something, quickly.
“I don’t give a fuck about your apologies”, the older one says, and before Hizashi can intervene, they are sending another kick to the kid’s abdomen. The man feels the impact. In the exact same moment, on the exact same place on his sternum. He feels the kick that almost rushes all air out of his lungs.
Holy shit, Hizashi thinks. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, he repeats in his mind, frantic. It’s happening. That’s his kid!
The older person moves to kick the kid another time, but before they can, Hizashi is rushing to them, anger blinding his gaze as he takes them into a headlock, barely noticing how they struggle. Without hesitation he slams his elbow on their temple, immediately knocking them out. They fall to the ground as Hizashi lets go, but he is barely paying attention, his eyes locked onto the kid still half covered by the shadows.
“It’s okay”, he immediately whispers when they press onto the wall opposite of him, still on the ground. Hizashi’s words don’t do much, it’s no wonder the kid has trust issues if he lives in a place like this. Oh fuck what if his kid grew up here? The man pushes that thought aside for later, and instead steps forward, just enough that he can properly see the kid in the darkness.
His heart aches when they let out a barely audible, terrified whimper at the movement, but he knows it will all be better when they realize. So he carefully kneels on the dirty ground, and finally he is close enough to make out the kid’s features in the dark. Then their eyes meet.
It’s the most wonderful feeling Hizashi has ever felt. It’s like an ache he didn’t realize he has gets soothed, it’s like a hole in his chest gets filled, it’s like he is finally complete. The man feels warm and happy, he feels right. How could he have ever lived before this? It’s unbearable to think of ever losing this feeling, it would be like he would get ripped apart. No, Hizashi will never let go of this. He has found his kid, and he is going to be the best guardian in the world.
“You- you’re-” the kid stutters out, pulling Hizashi out of his awe, out of his wonder. They look wide-eyed as they stare at him, mouth slightly open in astonishment.
“Yes”, Hizashi says softly, meeting those eyes the best he can in the dark, a soft smile playing on his lips.
Sadly the moment gets broken by something cracking outside their vision, both immediately on alert. As Hizashi stands up, he makes sure to be between the kid and the mouth of the alley, just in case something goes wrong. Then he carefully turns around and offers a hand to the kid, soul aching at the flinch. Oh baby… Hizashi can’t even imagine what all the pain has done to the child. Based on their small size, they are terribly young for the suffering that has been going on for seven years. The man forces himself to not think of the implications of that right now.
“Let’s go home, okay?” Hizashi offers quietly, still keeping his hand outstretched to the kid who is still pressed against the alley wall. There are protocols for what to do when soulmates meet, but none of it is the priority now. Right now he just needs to get the kid to a safer place, then he can worry about all the official paperwork and what not.
“Home?” comes the nearly silent question, and Hizashi does his best to meet the kid’s eyes in the shadows.
“I’ve got a nice apartment closer to downtown, and a very comfortable couch, my friend has confirmed”, the man hates that all he has to offer is a couch, but he lives only in a one bedroom apartment, and he isn’t sure of the kid’s boundaries yet, so that’ll have to do. He’ll look into bigger places as soon as he can, maybe a house even, he can afford that. A large yard for the kid to play in, a nice big room for them, decorated just how they want it. Yeah, Hizashi will get to it as soon as possible.
“Really?” the kid sounds like they can’t believe their ears. The man kneels back down after eyeing their surroundings to make sure it’s as safe as possible.
“Uh-huh, you’re my kid, and unless you have something against it, I would love to have you with me”, Hizashi says. He hadn’t even considered the kid might not want to come with him. What if they have something here to stay for? A friend, a family member, something else? It’s uncommon, usually those who get assigned a guardian have no one else, that’s the whole point, but it’s still not unheard of. The man is willing to make as many compromises as it takes to make his kid comfortable, but he would really prefer if they never stepped into this place ever again after tonight.
“Oh… You- you want me?” the kid asks, and Hizashi closes his eyes for a second to fight back tears. How could they even think that wouldn’t be the case? What has to have happened to make them think their own soulmate wouldn’t want them?
“I’ve wanted you since the first time I felt you, seven years ago. I have dreamed of this moment, of finally meeting you”, Hizashi whispers gently, resisting the urge to physically comfort the kid. Soulmate pairs are always made to be as compatible as possible, and Hizashi is a very physically affectionate person, so the kid most likely likes physical contact. Unfortunately he has to consider the possibility that past events have made the kid afraid of it.
“Oh…” the kid says again, sounding totally in awe. “‘kay”, they whisper after a moment, and Hizashi doesn’t try to hold back the wide smile on his face.
“I’m really happy to hear that”, he says, standing up again, and this time the kid takes the offered hand. It’s so tiny, bony and so fragile. What quickly catches Hizashi’s attention is the lack of pinky and ring finger, and suddenly his adoration at how cute the kid’s hand is disappears. He remembers that, he had been making lunch for himself, enjoying his free day, when suddenly there was pure agony on his right hand. He had thrown up from the pain, and it took months for the ache to completely stop.
Forcing himself to focus on the present, Hizashi notices the kid doesn’t let go when he is up, and the man feels his heart swell. His kid! His mind screams in excitement. It’s unreal, the day he has dreamed of for seven years is finally here, and he could have never imagined how absolutely amazing, yet so very heartbreaking it would be.
“Is there anything you need to get? I’ll provide you with all necessities, don’t worry, but any belongings you might want to take with you?” Hizashi asks softly, rubbing gentle circles on the back of the kid’s hand with his thumb, making himself not think about the scar tissue he feels. They quickly shake their head, and the man forces the implications of that away from his mind. Don’t think about it, he reminds himself sternly, he needs to focus. They need to get out of here, he needs to get the kid settled, then he can think of all the awful, horrible things.
“Okay then, shall we go?” Hizashi asks, thinking back to where he came from, though it’s very likely the kid knows how to get out better than him. They nod once, and with that the pair heads out. Hizashi will make sure the kid will never return here.
-
Hizashi gets his first proper look at the kid when they enter his apartment and he turns the lights on. At first he only notices the scars, and how he can remember feeling every single one. There is a large burn scar on the side of their neck, a cut running diagonally over their left eye, and countless other ones, including what he now recognizes as a puncture wound on the back of their right hand. Not to mention the ones hidden by their clothes.
Then his attention moves their actual appearance. The almost shoulder-length dark curls, uncountable amount of freckles, and wonderfully green eyes immediately make Hizashi’s heart swell because his kid is adorable. No matter how pale they are, how many scars they carry, how clearly malnourished they are, they are still so cute. Because that’s what really matters.
“You’re welcome to look around, the only spot that’s off limits is my desk in the bedroom, and that’s only because I’ve got some government level secrets there, you know, like nuclear launch codes and what not”, Hizashi jokes, internally cheering over the small twitch of the kid’s lips he gets.
They don’t look around much, only kicking their shoes off and eyeing the open concept apartment, while standing near Hizashi who is making quick work on unlacing his boots. When he is done, he straightens up and takes his leather jacket off, throwing it over the arm of the couch.
“Would you like to have a little talk with me? Nothing bad, and we can save it for tomorrow, it’s getting pretty late and I’m sure you want to sleep”, Hizashi asks softly when the kid shows no signs of desiring to do anything. The man is very much prepared to nudge the kid into opening up, he is sure they must be a nervous wreck right now. Hizashi is still a stranger, even if they are soulmates.
He still can’t get over the thought that he has finally found his kid, after what feels like an eternity of waiting.
“‘s fine”, the kid replies quietly, eyes locked to the floor, unmoving. Hizashi really hopes they will relax soon, when they realize they are safe.
“Okay then”, the man accepts easily. “Why don’t we go sit down?” He gestures at the couch, a comfortable gray thing, full of blankets and decorative pillows. Hizashi is all about comfort after all.
The kid nods once, before quietly moving to the couch, sitting down on the edge of it, their back ramrod straight and hands squeezed between their knees. With his heart aching, Hizashi moves to sit on the other end, one leg curled up in front of him as he faces the kid.
“I feel like the most important question is, if you’re injured right now? If you have anything that needs to be treated?” Hizashi can feel some aches, but he can’t be sure if they’re from bruises, which he can’t do much about, or from something more acute.
He watches as the kid quickly shakes their head, not looking towards Hizashi.
“Okay, that’s good”, he says, taking a breath as he tries to organize his thoughts. Very quickly he realizes what he has completely forgotten to ask about, and immediately feels guilty. “Do you want to tell me your name and pronouns?”
The kid glances at him quickly, before moving their eyes back to the floor. “Izuku, um- he/him”.
“It’s really nice to meet you, Izuku”, Hizashi replies with a smile. He decides to leave the subject of Izuku’s family name for later, for when the kid is hopefully more comfortable. “I’m Yamada Hizashi, he/him”, Hizashi introduces himself, internally cringing at the fact that he forgot the topic of names entirely.
“Present Mic”, Izuku states, it’s a small whisper, but it still surprises Hizashi.
“Yeah”, he confirms. “You’ve heard of me?” it feels weird to ask, as Hizashi is fairly known, but he’s desperate to cling onto anything that seems to interest the kid.
“Uh-huh”, Izuku replies, with another glance at Hizashi. The man makes sure to remember that for later, maybe the kid is a fan of heroes, but for now he decides to move on.
Hizashi hums as he considers how to phrase his questions, he really doesn’t want Izuku to feel like he is being interrogated. “Want to tell me how old you are? I’m twenty-four, I know, old”, he rolls his eyes playfully as he adds the last part, even if Izuku can’t see. With delight he notices that the kid’s shoulders loosen a bit, and he can see another twitch of Izuku’s lips through the hair curtaining his face.
“Not… not that old”, he says quietly. “I’m eleven”, he adds.
Hizashi doesn’t even need to do the math in his head, it’s like the realization that the horrible pains he’s been feeling for years started when the kid was four gets pierced into his brain. More numbers follow that realization; Izuku was nine when he lost his two fingers, he was six when what Hizashi assumes was hot water partially burned his right arm and both lower legs, the burn on the side of his neck happened when he was five.
Swallowing multiple times, Hizashi forces himself to move on, to push his feelings back until Izuku is hopefully more comfortable and deep asleep.
“So you’re in sixth grade?” he asks, figuring it’s a good segue to the topic of school.
Suddenly all of Izuku’s tension is back, and he is visibly shaking as he opens and closes his mouth.
“I- I’m-” he tries to get out.
“Hey, kid, it’s okay”, Hizashi immediately comforts, mentally scolding himself. So much of Izuku’s pain happens during school hours, obviously it’s a sensitive topic. He feels like an idiot. “I won’t force you to go there, ever, if you don’t want to. We can figure out something else. Plus, we have the week anyway, so you don’t need to worry about anything”.
When soulmate pairs find each other, both have a mandated week off from school or work for the purpose of adjusting and so on. Hizashi has never been so grateful for that, he feels like he needs an entire year to figure everything out. His thoughts feel scrambled as new questions and worries and things he needs to take care of keep popping up. The sleep deprivation from Shouta’s schedule certainly doesn’t help.
Izuku doesn’t seem convinced by his attempts at comfort, still shaking as occasionally he opens his mouth to say something, only to close it again.
“Izuku”, Hizashi calls for the kid’s attention, a brief glance the only acknowledgement he gets. “I swear to you, that I will never, ever intentionally do anything to you that makes you feel worse or harms you. That includes school”, he says as sincerely as he can, leaning slightly forward on the couch, tilting his head to try and meet Izuku’s eyes.
*You- you mean it?” Izuku seems to have to physically force out the words.
“Yes”, Hizashi answers immediately. “It’s quite literally my purpose as your guardian, you know?” The question was supposed to be rhetorical, but Izuku still answers with a small shrug.
Thankfully Hizashi’s words seem to have calmed Izuku some, so he leans back to his previous position as he processes that little shrug. He didn’t even consider that Izuku wouldn’t be aware.
“I- I know what they are… but I don’t- no one’s ever-” Izuku struggles out during Hizashi’s silence.
“You don’t know the details?” Hizashi asks, heart heavy as Izuku nods quickly. “That’s okay, I can explain anything you want to know. What if I give you a quick explanation now, and we can talk details after sleeping?” he suggests, overly aware how incredibly late it is.
“‘kay”, Izuku confirms. Slowly his tension bleeds out as Hizashi starts explaining soulmates to him. Even slower the kid actually turns to look towards him, looking so in awe as Hizashi rambles about how he’s been waiting, and how much he wants to provide the best possible life for Izuku. Intentionally Hizashi keeps the details of him feeling the kid’s pain vague, only briefly mentioning it before moving on. It’s not something Izuku should worry about.
“They always… they always said someone like me wouldn't have a- a soulmate”, Izuku admits quietly as Hizashi finishes his explanation. That raises so many questions for the man; who are “they?” What does “someone like me” mean? But he has enough sense to realize that those are topics for later.
“They were wrong”, Hizashi states, voice confident. That seems to be the only thing he is confident about right now, that Izuku is his kid and it’s his duty to give him the life he deserves.
“Yeah”, Izuku whispers, voice full of astonishment. Hizashi smiles a little, glad to see the kid come out of his shell more and more.
“Then, before we can finally go to sleep, is there anything I need to consider, like do you have any special needs or medical conditions?” the man asks, wanting to be safe rather than sorry. Immediately he regrets his question, as the word “conditions” causes Izuku to react like he’d been physically struck.
Before the man can pull his question back, Izuku is curling into himself, once again visibly shaking. “Yes”, the simple word seems almost painful as Izuku forces it out.
“Hey, kid, if it isn’t anything urgent, you don’t need to tell me”, Hizashi tries to assure, but Izuku is shaking his head quickly, curling over more and more.
“It’s- you need to- you need to know. You won’t- you’ll take it all back and- and it’s okay”, the kid had some stutter previously, but now his speech is all jagged words and cut off sentences. Fear is pouring out of him in waves.
“I promise that won’t be the case, you don’t need to-” Hizashi gets cut off by Izuku:
“Don’t- don’t say that”, he seems almost resigned, like he has accepted his fate, despite his obvious fear. “I’m- I’m-”, Izuku tries to force out, again cutting off any assurances Hizashi tries to give, but the words just won’t come out.
Izuku visibly cringes as he gives up trying to say whatever he was trying to say, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. Then, in a sudden movement so unlike the usually very restrained kid, he straightens up, moving his right hand to the sleeve covering his left arm.
Before Hizashi can even try to do or say anything, Izuku jerks the sleeve back, like ripping off a band-aid.
The man barely registers the other scar tissue, his eyes immediately finding what Izuku forced himself to show. It’s a group of healed cuts on his forearm, carved into freckled skin, the messy lines forming a word. Atro. It takes a moment for Hizashi to realize what that means, the word, the slur, so uncommon, at least to him. Still, he has heard it in the passing, and suddenly so many things make so much sense.
Izuku is quirkless. The word, atro, is shortened from the word atrophied, meaning a thing that has wasted away or become rudimentary. As quirks became more and more common, people started to use the word against those without quirks.
It’s only been a few seconds, but Izuku is still shaking, eyes locked on Hizashi, waiting for his reaction. His whole body is tense and he is slowly inching away from the man, ready to run the second he deems it necessary. Hizashi will do anything to make sure Izuku will not feel like running is needed.
Moving his gaze away from the arm, and to Izuku, he meets the kid’s eyes.
“That’s okay”, Hizashi says in the gentlest voice possible. It almost seems like Izuku doesn’t register the words, or doesn’t believe them, eyes still resigned and body language still screaming of fear.
So very slowly Hizashi lifts his hand from where it had been resting on his lap, and instead moves it to Izuku’s still outstretched one. As he makes contact, their hands barely brushing together, Izuku twitches, blinking once, twice.
“It’s okay”, Hizashi promises, swears. When Izuku doesn’t move his hand away, carefully the man takes a proper hold of it, his larger hand, still covered by his fingerless gloves, wraps around the smaller one.
Before he hadn’t really registered it, in too much hurry to get Izuku to safety, but now as he holds Izuku’s hand, he is overwhelmed with how right it feels. Hizashi’s calloused, slightly tanned hand cupping around the paler one, so small and soft it feels almost fragile.
“It’ll all be okay”, Hizashi vows, and slowly, cautiously, Izuku relaxes.