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The Yamada-Aizawa-Shinsou household was never a quiet place, not in the way that there was always sound or a ruckus but in the way that all members of their small family were constantly on the go. Hizashi himself was a pro-hero, an English teacher, and a radio host, his husband was an underground pro-hero and taught ethics and law, while their son, Hitoshi, was a UA student and heaven knows that alone is incredibly time-consuming. With all of their jobs and activities, there is always something going on. Someone heading out for patrol, someone staying late for meetings, someone leaving to get in some extra training. There’s always something going on except on Saturday nights and Sundays. Saturday nights were specifically reserved for date nights and Sundays were family days.
This leads to where Hizashi is now, sitting in their living room, a second year’s essay in his lap and a blue pen in his hand. It’s a Saturday night and he’s grading papers when he was supposed to be trying out a new restaurant in the area, a glass of wine in one hand and his husband hanging off the other. No matter what his son says he is not sulking because he understands, he really does. Being a hero isn’t like most other jobs. It requires the ability to drop everything you’re doing and be ready to fight which is exactly what Shouta is doing. He’d been contacted a few days prior about a mission that required his participation to succeed. Initially, Shouta had been hesitant, Hizashi even more so seeing as the man had only been fully healed earlier that week, but once he learned what the case was about, he agreed. So Hizashi sits on his couch knowing only that Sir Nighteye was heading the mission while his husband fought for his and other people's lives.
Hizashi strikes out an incorrect conjunction a little harder than necessary and sighs. The thought of taking a break crosses his mind for a second but the choice is taken out of his hands with a series of knocks that come from the front door. Odd, he thinks. It’s only the three of them that live here and Hitoshi’s in his room so it’s not a missing key; their friends would either barge in or make a whole commotion to be let in, and well, Hitoshi doesn’t have friends (something he's really hoping will change now that the boy is in 1-A). Hizashi heaves himself off his comfortable seat and heads to answer the knocks, secretly hoping it’s a mistake so he can go take a bath and unwind.
Opening the door, he is greeted by a head of wild, curly green hair. The kid has to tilt his head up to make up for the good 20 centimeters Hizashi has on him but when he does, he gives a sheepish smile, bright green eyes scrunching up with the force of his rounded cheeks. “Oh, Yamada-san, I- uh I thought it was date night.”
“I’m sorry but do I know you?” Hizashi asks, thrown off by the familiarity with his schedule.
“Oh! No, but I know you or about you. Wait, that doesn’t sound better, just 'Toshi talks about you a lot.” The small green-haired boy blushes and awkwardly stumbles through his explanation, but Hizashi doesn't really process it having completely blanked after one word.
“…Toshi?” He asks in a bit of disbelief. It's obvious that it’s a nickname for his son, Hitoshi, but said son has never mentioned a friend, let alone a friend close enough for the use of cute nicknames.
“Um, Hitoshi? He said you were one of his dads and I really hope that’s true because if it’s not I’m totally making a fool of myself and my only friend is a compulsive liar.”
“No! No, Hitoshi wasn’t lying,” Hizashi rushes to assure the boy, not wanting his son's friend—for all the blonde knew his son’s only friend—to think ill of the other and ruin their relationship. “I was just surprised; he’s never talked about any friends before.”
The green-eyed boy wilted momentarily before grinning wildly again. “Well, he talks about you and Aizawa-san all the time, he acts like he’s annoyed but whenever you come up, he can’t wipe the smile off his face. He’s really happy with you two.”
“Aww. Oh, but you must be here for him. Why don’t you come in?” Hizashi opens the door fully and steps back making room for the boy to enter.
“Oh, um sure, thank you Yamada-san.”
“Of course…” He trails off to prompt a name from the boy who opens his mouth to answer the unasked question as he steps past the threshold of the home. However, before he can even get a syllable out Hizashi puts a gentle hand on the teen’s shoulder blade to guide him further inside. His hand meets the fabric of the boy’s hoodie, the boy’s soaked hoodie, he realizes, and subsequently puts pressure on his back causing a cut-off yelp to come from him. Hizashi feels his hand quickly become wet and sticky with a warm substance, a substance he easily recognizes the feeling of, especially as a pro hero, even before he pulls his hand back only to be faced with red. Blood—a worrying amount of blood—and as any good hero would, he screams.
Screech is more like it. Shrill and high pitched with just a little of his quirk accidentally slipping out, not enough to do damage to the apartment or its residents but enough for the kid already in pain to wince once again and enough to call the attention of a certain purple-haired boy.
“I'll get the bug; you don’t have to scream about it,” Hitoshi calls exasperated at his perceived fear rather than the shock it was as he leaves his room. The boy steps around the corner and into view. For a moment he seems frozen, eyes zeroed in on Hizashi's incriminating hand before he snaps out of it and drags his gaze to their injured guest. “‘Zuku what are you doing here? Whose blood is that?”
The boy awkwardly chuckles as if he were embarrassed by the fact that he had seemingly lost copious amounts of blood. “It’s mine, sorry, but it’s really not that bad.”
“Not that bad, kid, you’ve lost a lot of blood. I need to see the injury.”
“Like I said, it’s not bad it’s just kind of big and I uh, I can’t actually reach it, so I needed help.”
“Hitoshi go get the first aid kit from under my bed, we are going to the bathroom,” Hizashi commands and begins gently leading the bleeding boy down the hall.
Hizashi sits the boy down on the rim of the tub and tells him to unzip his jacket. The kid does as he's told and Hizashi carefully maneuvers the garment off his shoulders to reveal the source of the blood. Even with the jacket soaking up and thus removing a good amount of blood he can barely see the actual injury but what he can see is worrying, to say the least. Multiple lacerations are strewn across the kid’s shoulder blades and what little he can pick out in the mess of blood would need stitches. “I can’t treat this kid; we need to go to the hospital.”
“No!” Two voices yell out in unison, both bordering on frantic.
Hitoshi walks further into the room, lugging the large first aid kit that was mostly used by Shouta due to his close combat fighting. He sets it on the bathroom sink with a huff and turns towards his audience. “Izuku doesn't like hospitals,” he states, having composed his usual uncaring and deadpan tone.
“They don’t quite like me either, Toshi,” the other boy, Izuku, tries to joke but is only greeted by grumbling and a few curse words from Hitoshi that Hizashi would scold him for in any other situation.
“What do you mean?”
Izuku turns his attention to his suddenly interesting hands and shrugs his shoulders in what must be an extremely painful movement, but gains little more than a wince from the boy. “Hospitals can refuse to accept me or charge extra for treating me and I don’t have that kind of money.”
Hizashi swallows down the lump that answer leaves in his throat. “Why won’t they help you?”
Green eyes scan him before they quickly find Hitoshi. The two teens seem to communicate through eye contact because then his son looks at him, seemingly scrutinizing him before he hesitantly speaks. “You can tell him, it’ll be okay.” And although he’d never say it aloud, Hizashi is a bit hurt that his own kid had to consider whether or not he could be trusted.
It does, however, put the new kid at ease, if only slightly, as he takes a deep breath before admitting, “I’m quirkless.”
To which Hizashi very intelligently and eloquently responds with, “Oh.”
Both boys tense, the green one leaning away from him and tensing like he's prepared to book it while his son stands taller. “Oh?” Hitoshi coldly asks.
“I didn’t know you could be denied medical services for being quirkless.”
“We’re denied a bunch of stuff,” the boy shrugs, once again an action that should send shooting pain across his back but appears to go largely unnoticed.
“Okay,” Hizashi breathes, still a bit dazed before shaking it off. He’s the adult and a pro hero, one with an incredibly stupid husband who has more than once come home needing stitches and help with them. “Okay, I’ll do what I can tonight but tomorrow I’m going to call a friend of mine to check my work and make sure there aren’t any issues. Deal?”
“Yes," Izuku agrees sounding relieved, entirely grateful for basic human decency. "Thank you so much.” Yeah, it didn't sit right with him.
“It’s quite literally the least I can do, kid,” Hizashi insists as he steps into the tub behind the now shirtless teen but his eyes catch on something that multiplies his concerns. “Do you mind telling me what those scars are from?”
Green eyes follow his extended finger, landing on dozens upon dozens of thick precise, almost medical, lines that cover his forearms. Hitoshi also follows his gesture and quietly gasps at the sight he likely recognizes a likeness of from his own thighs (a coping method he and Shouta addressed the moment they found out). “Izuku, are you cutting?” It isn’t judgmental, how could it be, but the question is blunt in a way that makes Hizashi cringe; however, he knows Hitoshi must be more desensitized to the habit so he understands the lack of decorum.
The sitting boy’s eyes go wide and he quickly hides his arms against his chest, “No!” he squeaks but after the initial defensiveness about the subject he sighs and uncurls slightly. “No, it was just… a villain attack.”
“You were attacked by a villain and you didn’t tell me?!”
“Villain attacks happen all the time, I didn’t want to worry you about one so inconsequential.” Hitoshi looks ready to fire back but the teen catches that too and continues before the taller boy can get another word out. “The villain didn’t even leave an injury; his quirk made the scars.”
“...Fine but in the future, I want to hear about things like that, even if you’re not hurt.”
“Deal. Now can I get patched up? If you’re still willing, I mean.”
“‘Course little listener.” Hizashi snaps out of his stupor and begins his work.
The blonde takes a dark hand towel he’d gathered before and wets it with the tub’s faucet. Starting at the bottom of the kid’s back he starts cleaning off the blood. It takes a few minutes but soon a majority of his back is only tainted pink instead of the streams of red it once was. It stays that way seeing as the injury had stopped bleeding, probably long before Izuku had even stepped foot into their apartment. Once he is sure there are no other cuts elsewhere he switches to a gauze pad, carefully wiping the general area and more surgically dabbing around the actual wounds. Still working from the bottom up, he gets through a quarter of the area before he notices anything off but once he does he continues with a newfound fervor. When his efforts unveil the truth of his confusion Hizashi's stomach drops because instead of an accident or another random villain attack he realizes this was purposeful. How else could the gashes in this teen’s back form letters?
“Oh, shit.”
Both boys snap their heads to look at him. “What?” The green-haired boy asks anxiously as Hitoshi quickly steps forward to see the cause of the commotion.
“Oh shit,” Hitoshi breathlessly repeats.
Tears started to gather in the corners of Izuku's wide green eyes and the boy’s breaths come in quicker. “What? What is it?!”
Hitoshi wearily pulls his gaze from his friend’s back to face him. “It says Deku.”
Hizashi assumes the name is meaningful in some way because the only letters revealed are D-E, yet his son seems so sure of what it continues on to be. It is obviously significant to the victim because he just wilts and numbly replies, “Oh.”
That seems to snap Hitoshi out of whatever thoughts he is caught up in as he quickly kneels on the ground. The purple-haired boy places a gentle hand on round cheeks and hesitantly calls, “Izuku?”
“I hate that name. I don’t like being Deku,” the shorter boy brokenly whispers.
“You’re not useless,” Hitoshi says with saddened conviction and the vague familiarity of the name connects because Deku can be shortened from Dekunobou, wooden doll, puppet, good for nothing. The meaning behind the word now etched into this kid’s skin cracks his heart wide open. “‘Zu you’re smart and creative with your amazing analysis-”
“No. It’s stupid and creepy and I- I hurt her with it. I’m a villain,” he cries and silent tears begin to trail down the boy's face.
“You’re not a villain. You’re strong and kind and determined.”
“No, I’m not. I just hurt people, I’m bad. I shouldn’t be alive.”
“Don’t- don’t say that.” Hitoshi chokes out and looks away as he wipes a falling tear. “You’re tired. Let’s just fix you up then you can go to sleep.”
The boy looks up, guilt etched into every part of his face. “See. I hurt you. I-”
“Stop! Stop it. Please,” his son looks to him with quickly wetting eyes and pleads, “Can you just finish?”
Hizashi snapped back and quietly answered, “yeah,” before returning to his work. It didn’t take long to clear the rest of the blood away, confirming the insult carved there, which just left the most difficult part. Luckily only three slashes would need true stitches so after wrapping the few shallow cuts and applying butterfly stitches on the majority of them he sent Hitoshi out of the room.
Once it was just him and Izuku, he pulled out the supplies for stitches, all of which they had pre-sterilized. He gave a warning to the boy who silently acknowledged his understanding then gave him a fresh towel to bite down on. When he finished his far from professional procedure, Hizashi carefully bandaged the area and helped the teen stand up.
The two made their way out of the bathroom, startling a curled-up Hitoshi stationed right outside the door. The way his head bobbed, Hizashi could tell his kid was half asleep, their guest doing no better.
When their presence was finally processed the taller teen sprung up and the trio walked the short distance to the guest room together. Hizashi softly directed the green-haired boy to the bed which he promptly collapsed into. He turned around to face his son who looked anxious in the doorway and more vulnerable than the man had seen in years. Tiredly sighing, Hizashi addressed him, “I think your friend might need some company tonight.”
Wild purple hair bobbed as the boy weakly nodded his agreement and crossed the room. He watched as Hitoshi hesitantly laid down in the queen-sized bed with enough distance and care to not agitate any injuries but close enough that they were practically cuddling. Hizashi cast one sadder yet fond look towards the pair before closing the door to the room and heading back to the bathroom. Over an hour later, the room was cleaned, a load of laundry was running and Hizashi was conking out in his own bed.
Hizashi
Raid went well. No casualties.
I took a few hits and the post-raid meeting is in the morning so I’m just going to stay for observation unless you need me.
7:12 pm
I’ve usually heard from you at this point. Are you and Hitoshi okay?
8:24 pm
I finished the paperwork side of things and it's getting late so I’m gonna get some sleep.
Text me whenever you see this. Goodnight.
9:45 pm
Hizashi I’m getting really worried. Please text back.
6:33 am
The meeting starts in 3. I’ll be home right after.
7:57 am
Shouta would never consider himself to be an antsy person, but now, sitting in a conference room with a dozen other pro heroes going over yesterday's raid he can’t seem to stop his jittering leg that’s unreliably supporting his phone. His phone that he’s checking every few minutes to see if his husband or son has texted back, they haven’t. God, he can’t wait for this to be over so he can see them, hopefully completely fine.
“-you think, Eraserhead?” he catches a deep voice finish.
Shouta looks up to the speaker, unsurprised it’s the leader of the completed mission, Sir Nighteye. “What?” he asks intelligently.
The green-haired man sighs deeply and drops his head into a suspecting hand. “Have you been listening at all?”
“No,” he answers honestly and unashamedly.
“I asked what you thought about Eri going forward.”
“What about her?”
“You’ve interacted with her the most-”
“I got her away from Overhaul and handed her off to paramedics. I interacted with her the same amount as Lemillion did,” he corrects.
“That may be, but you’re a pro hero, Lemillion is still an intern.”
“I, for one, think her connection, however unwilling, to the Shie Hassaikai puts her in danger. She should be put in protective care until we can go through all the documents Overhaul kept at the very least,” FatGum, the saint, suggests.
Centipeder nods his assessment. “I agree. Especially with new criminal groups like the League of Villains emerging.”
“Fine,” Nighteye relents, “But until all evidence is reviewed this case is still classified so if Eri is released from the hospital before then she will need to be placed in the care of someone here.”
Everyone looks around expectedly, but nobody offers instead Rock Lock raises a hand and addresses the table, “Well, my kid was just born so I have my hands full at home.”
“I fear my mutation isn’t very popular with children Eri-chan’s age,” Centipeder adds.
Others give their reasons from lack of time, money, or inexperience until somebody helpfully asks, “You work at UA, and you’re married, aren’t you Eraserhead?”
“I work with teenagers trying to become heroes, not traumatized five-year-olds.”
“Well, we don’t have many more options now do we?”
Shouta grits his teeth at the corner he’s been backed into. While he isn’t the only option, FatGum did say he could be a last resort, he realistically was the best option. “I will meet with Eri’s doctor about her progress then we can reconvene with an idea of where things are heading.”
Noises of agreement sound from around the room so Shouta, taking the leave for what it is, glances at his phone, sighing in relief with a new notification lighting up the screen.
Hizashi
Sorry Shou things have been a bit hectic here
I’m glad you’re okay and take your time with all that junk. We’re pretty busy here anyways
11:39 am
I’m gonna have to take you up on that offer, something came up. We’ll need to talk about it later but for now what happened there?
12:04 pm
A speech bubble containing only a “...” appears and disappears multiple times over the next few minutes, signifying his husband’s loss of words before he finally responded somewhat concerningly.
I really don’t want to think about it right now and it’s not something you need to be worrying about but I’ll tell you when you get back
12:09 pm
Fine. I have to go see someone now so I’ll talk to you later.
12:10 pm
Alright I love you Shou
12:10 pm
I love both of you.
12:11 pm
An hour and a half later finds Shouta outside of Japan’s most secure hospital because even though all major members of the Shie Hassaikai were taken down, Eri had still been a crucial part in Overhaul’s operation. They have no idea how many people know about her existence or her part in the quirk-erasing bullets—thankfully though, those bullets only got to the stage of blockers—and they’d rather be safe than sorry.
After setting off the metal detectors and returning to his borrowed ride to drop off most of his gear, the hero enters the hospital. The entry room is an obviously expensive and medically clean reception area. He walks up to one of the nurses working the desk and presents his hero license along with a form Nighteye had given him before he left stating he’s involved in the case and has clearance for what he’s asking to do, “I’m here to see Yamada Eri.”
A dark hand grabs his documents and types something into the computer then the man meticulously scans both items, occasionally looking back to the computer screen for confirmation, before handing them back. “First floor, reception there can check you in.”
Shouta nods his thanks and finds the stairs which he’d take over an elevator any day. He walks up to yet another desk and another nurse to go through the same process. Same deal, they take his papers, stare at them, their computer, and him until they finally tell him the five-year-old's room number. He just begins to walk away, stuffing those same papers into one of his many now empty pockets when his hero name is called.
With a sigh, he turns towards a man, presumably a doctor if the long white coat is to mean anything, and tiredly answers, “What can I do for you?”
“You’re the hero representative here to check on Yamada Eri, correct?”
“That’s me.”
“Good. You wouldn’t mind if I fill you in on her condition while you walk then, would you?”
“Please do.” Now this he can handle, more than that, this is something that had to be done anyways but now Shouta doesn’t have to spend an annoying amount of time trying to find someone with this information
“Perfect. Eri-chan sustained very few injuries from the raid itself, just some minor bruising on her upper arm and abdomen from being pulled around and a few scrapes. We’re not worried about that, we are, however, worried about past traumas. As far as we’ve been told, Eri-chan was the victim of human experimentation and she has the scars to prove it. Besides those scars, we are yet to see any physical effects of the experimentation, but we’re worried about the unseeable short and long-term effects. I believe it would be best to keep her under observation for a few days to keep an eye out for immediate issues, however unlikely they are with how long it’s been going on. Then every few months after she’s released she’ll need to come back for some testing to make sure everything is running smoothly inside and out.”
“Sounds reasonable to me. I’ll relay the information, but any physical documents would be helpful.”
“Of course. I can have copies made for you and you can get them from the reception desk before you leave.” They stop just outside door 119, Eri’s room. “I’ll leave you to it, have a good afternoon, Eraserhead.”
“I want my nii-chan,” the little girl, Eri, cries to Shota. She refuses to say much of anything else.
Shota, while not great with kids, especially crying ones, still tries to look open and softens his voice as he talks to the newly rescued girl. “We don’t know your family name yet so the doctors might have to do a DNA test, but we can look for your brother.”
The little girl shakes her head defiantly causing her long, knotted locks to whip back and forth. “Nii-chan says family doesn’t have to be from blood.”
“That’s true, but that means it’ll be a bit harder to find him. Can you tell me his name?”
Eri holds a thin finger to her lips in a ‘hush’ motion and shakes her head again. “‘m not supposed to.”
Shouta inhales through his nose and out through his mouth, expelling growing irritation, and reminds himself this is a five-year-old who’s been in captivity for months. Pushing her this soon would do no good, so he tries a different approach. “Can you tell me what he looks like then?”
Eri tugs on her white hair, seemingly thinking, as she responds, “He’s green and super tall and he had a mask like the bad men, but he wasn’t.”
“Wasn’t bad.”
“No! Nii-chan’s the nicest,” she exclaims with a small lift of her lips, the happiest he’s seen of her, not that he’s seen much of her.
“Yeah, how was he nice?” Because as much as he hates every single member of the Shie Hassaikai for even enabling what happened to the girl before him, he’s still glad Eri wasn’t totally surrounded by those that wanted to hurt her.
“He plays with me and gives me secret snacks and he teaches me lots of stuff. He even taught me all about my quirk so Overhaul-san stopped hurting me so much.” Eri looked down, dejected, “And he understands, people hurt him too.”
“Were Overhaul and the bad men hurting him?”
“No. Nii-chan said other kids hurt him, I would never do that,” she states passionately.
“I believe you, Eri. You said other kids, do you know how old he is?”
Her eyebrows furrow in thought before she looks him in the eye, holding up both hands between their faces. “He said he was this much older.”
Ten tiny fingers, ten years difference. Shit, Shouta may have just found a second victim.
Hitoshi, cursing his perpetual light sleeping, awakens at the sound of sliding furniture. He groggily rubs at his eyes before scanning the room, but instead of seeing one of the cats fooling around, his eyes find a humanoid figure crouching on his desk and sliding out the window. Suddenly, the bed feels a lot colder.
“Izuku?” The shadow freezes in its place, in limbo between safety and a four-story drop. “What are you doing?” He asks now wide awake.
“I-I have to go.”
“Out the window? We have a door.”
“I just didn’t want to disturb anyone.”
“Yet you still woke me.” Both boys cringed for different reasons.
“I’m sorry,” his best friend whispers and even if the two words weren’t spoken wavering and soaked with guilt Hitoshi would have known the boy truly meant it. Izuku seemed sorry about everything these days, Hitoshi hated it.
“No, I’m sorry, it’s just early. Come back to bed, you can leave in the morning like a normal person.”
“I can’t. Your dad won’t let me.”
“He’s not holding you hostage; he just wants to make sure you’re safe. We both do,” he admits because while Hitoshi has always found it hard to be vulnerable, Izuku has always made it easier.
Izuku averts his gaze, staring out the window into the quiet city. “That’s the problem.” He quietly sighs and looks back, his wide eyes and furrowed brows a tell for what he’s about to say. “I’m sorry but I have to go.”
The day had gone well in Hizashi’s opinion. He woke up at his usual time, a time both his husband and son thought was inhumane and torturous, and as per habit, crept out of his bed only to remember he went to bed alone. There was a moment of panic because he forgot Shouta was on a mission; however, after silently skimming news channels, he found a station reporting on the raid which stated there were no fatalities and no major injuries among the heroes. He breathed a sigh of relief as he plugged in his dead phone.
While waiting for the ability to contact Shouta and Recovery Girl so he could fulfill his promise to Izuku—he needed to learn his family name so he could stop constantly calling him “kid” and “little listener”—he’d started on breakfast. There had been a little incident, which was hardly deserving of that name, where their guest tried to leave but Hizashi just reminded him of their deal and the boy lost his fight.
It took almost an hour after Izuku woke up—in that time Hizashi did find out the teen’s family name but was assured he could use his given one—before Hitoshi rose and the three of them had breakfast together. After the quiet affair, Hitoshi dragged his friend back into the depths of the apartment, giving Hizashi time to make some calls.
Turning on his phone he saw half a dozen texts from his husband and wilted a little at the thought of Shouta left awake wondering if they were okay. Seeing his last text warning about a meeting he opted to just text the man back. Knowing how those things go, he then called Chiyo about seeing Izuku and in hero fashion, she easily agreed, even saying she’d come to them.
Another hour saw Izuku passed out on the couch from a quick kiss and Chiyo leaving, advising the blonde that he should be okay, but it’d be safer for him to be kept under a watchful eye for the next two days.
While waiting for the green-haired boy to wake up, both he and Hitoshi worked quietly on their respective classwork only breaking for lunch, which Izuku slept through. When the green-haired boy did wake up, Hizashi explained the situation to him. Izuku insisted he was fine, but Hizashi has always been a stickler for listening to doctors, especially the youthful heroine, so eventually the boy relented but said his mother would be at work until early morning. The family happily let him stay another night and after a nice dinner they all lazed around until they went off to bed.
He thought the day had gone well when he went to sleep to a silent house but waking up to a series of loud knocks made him wonder, was it really that good?
Hizashi pulls himself into a sitting position and blindly swats at the lamp on his bedside table until light floods the room as he calls for the person to come in. His attention is still being directed toward the small table beside him, but his peripheral vision picks up a blur of purple. Hitoshi has only once purposefully woken them up in the middle of the night and that time was frightening, to say the least so already he was on edge. Then he’s able to find his glasses and clear vision only makes that fear skyrocket, knocking into his heart and lodging itself in his throat, because Hitoshi has been crying.
“Hitoshi, what’s wrong?” he asks, bordering on frantic as he rips the blankets off himself.
His son doesn’t answer, instead pulling a slouching, unsure Izuku behind him. Hizashi can’t see the boy’s face as it’s covered by messy green hair and a downturned head but his posture and the air around him say it all. Hitoshi sits on the edge of his bed and tugs on the connecting hand until the other teen settles onto the giving mattress. Getting the vibe that the ensuing conversation will happen here, Hizashi slowly tucks his legs back onto the bed.
Softer this time he asks, “What’s going on?”
Hitoshi sniffles and bumps shoulders with his friend but it doesn’t have the encouraging effect Hizashi thinks it is intended to, instead the boy lets out a strangled sob and cuts off the ensuing storm of tears with his free hand. The purple-eyed boy droops but takes the reins for his non-verbal partner. “You can’t call Izuku’s mom. She left him.”
Hizashi’s heart breaks and the cracks only spread when more sobs come from the child, a boy only 15 years old and completely alone. Hitoshi drops their joined hands and instead wraps the shorter boy in a hug as words continually spill out of his mouth. His son keeps talking and talking at first it’s about that woman, the neglect, the passive-aggressive insults, and the abandonment on Izuku’s birthday of all days. After that the words don’t stop, Hitoshi talks about the abuse at school, his friend’s brief homeless stint, and his current job he had to choose over high school. He talks about the boy’s hopes and dreams of being a hero, of going to UA and so many other things Hizashi doesn’t need to know about, but he absorbs the information anyway because this kid deserves an adult who will listen and care and Hizashi will be damned if he didn’t care.
After a lull comes in Hitoshi’s rant, the man finally speaks, quiet, much quieter than anyone would think the voice hero could be, and so full of hurt for this kid. “Izuku, can I hug you?”
For the first time that morning those big, green eyes look up at him, tears coming back with newfound strength as the boy tiredly nods into Hitoshi’s chest. Hizashi practically leaps across the expanse and wraps both kids up in a bone-breaking embrace. “It’s going to be okay; we’ll make it okay.”
That night neither boy stays awake long enough to make it back to their bed, so Hizashi just tucks them in where they are. No matter what's in store for Izuku’s future, these are his kids, and he will do anything for them.
The next time Hizashi wakes up is to an annoying ringing by his ear. He groggily sits up and looks at the two bodies still passed out on his bed. Seeing them safe after last night makes something loosen in his chest so he allows himself to grab his phone and answer the call.
“What are you doing up so early, Shou?”
“‘Zashi, it's almost 8, where are you? Hitoshi has to leave for his internship in ten minutes.”
“Shit!” he jumps out of bed, his movement and noise waking both occupants, Izuku shooting up and Hitoshi mumbling to quiet down. He reaches over and shakes his son, “Hitoshi wake up, we have to go.”
“Five more minutes,” he whines into the pillow.
With how little sleep he knows the boys got he wishes he could oblige that but unfortunately he knows how important these internships are for first years, so he has to insist. “Hitoshi you have your internship this week, your class is already at the school.”
“Shit! I didn’t even pack!” Hitoshi scrambles across the bed and out the door to begin frantically getting ready.
“Was he in our bed? He’s never done that, what’s going on?”
The man sighed as he raked his fingers through his long, loose hair but before he answered Shouta he covered the receiver and addressed the elephant in the room. “Izuku, can you go get ready for the day? Hitoshi can lend you some more clothes.” Izuku nods and leaves his position awkwardly trying to become one with the far wall.
“Zashi, who was that?”
“That was Hitoshi’s friend. I’m sorry, Shou but we all had a pretty rough night. I don’t think we’ll get to the school on time for the bus, but I’ll make sure he gets his case and gets on the right train.”
“That’s fine, just tell me what this is all about later, okay?”
“Of course, Shou.”
“And tell Hitoshi to listen to Mimicry or he’ll be cleaning the support labs for a month.”
Hizashi huffs a laugh, his husband sure knows how to ruin a tender moment. “Of course, Shou, I love you.”
“Love you too.”
They do not make it to the school on time, in fact, it was almost half an hour after Shouta and the rest of class 1-A had left on their bus. No matter, Hitoshi and Hizashi—Izuku didn’t have an ID or guest pass so they reluctantly left him in the car—got to the classroom and easily grabbed the remaining case. Everything went relatively smoothly until they got to the train station at which point both boys looked reluctant to part.
“I’ll take care of him,” Hizashi promises both of them.
Hitoshi slowly nods and slips out of the backseat with his backpack and briefcase. “I’ll be back in a week, but you can still text me… I love you, Izuku.”
Izuku sniffles and uses his sleeves to harshly wipe his eyes. “I love you, too, ‘Toshi.”
His son just awkwardly nods again before hesitantly shutting the door and as the boy walks into the station he throws one last wave toward them. All in all, it was completely adorable but slightly heartbreaking.
Hizashi pulls out of the parking spot and begins driving back to the apartment. The atmosphere in the car is a bit stiffer without the buffer of Hitoshi as a mediator of sorts but no matter how Hizashi felt, he was sure Izuku felt much worse.
“I know this was pretty bad timing, but we’ll figure this all out, just like I promised. Okay?”
“Okay, Yamada-san.” The blonde smiles softly at the quiet response he didn’t even expect to receive. He’ll be okay, they all will be.
The week completely flies by with how much there is to do. After accidentally missing work, Hizashi officially takes the rest of the week off. He would’ve only taken a few days, but Shouta got stuck tying up loose ends in his case while most of the heroes got to go home, and with the emotional state Izuku was in, he didn’t want to leave the boy alone for too long.
That’s not to say the time off didn’t go to good use. Right after dropping Hitoshi off, he and Izuku headed to the police station where they filed a report on not only the child abandonment but also, after a bit of convincing, the hate crime he was a victim of. Their statements were taken on both events and Midoriya Inko was officially stripped of her parental rights with a warrant out for her arrest.
With there being an opening in the parent department in Izuku’s life, Hizashi offered to take emergency custody of the boy until long-term plans could be hashed out (although his long-term plan was just making that temporary custody permanent). That night they went to their home, stuffed themselves on unhealthy takeout, and passed out, although this time Izuku slept in Hitoshi’s room again.
Tuesday comes and goes with two major events. The long-dreaded phone call with Shouta and visiting Izuku’s apartment to collect his things.
The information exchanged during the call was not only surprising for Shouta but for Hizashi as well. Hizashi shared the events of the past three days before reluctantly admitting to taking another kid in without consulting his husband. With the ensuing silence he was worried Shouta was upset but his response of, “So that means you can’t be angry at what I just did.” which continued onto an explanation of his own kid, only five years old and with a tragic backstory of her own. Then his story ended in a very familiar way, with a new kid coming home.
After admitting they got in a bit over their heads and promising to communicate better in the future, they both hung up. Lunch came and went, and the new duo was in the car again. Izuku directed him to a dodgier part of the city but to a surprisingly nice apartment building for a 15-year-old providing for themself. The pair took the elevator to the top floor and Izuku guided him into his apartment.
The place itself was nicer than he’d imagined from all the depressing things he’d been told about the boy in the recent past, but the place was still dirty in a way that’d you’d expect out of a teenage boy living alone. After some insisting, Hizashi sets out to clean and pack the kitchen and living room while Izuku does the same with his bedroom and bathroom.
He washes the few dirty dishes in the sink before carefully packaging them away into the boxes he’d brought. A few cabinets have shelf-stable food as well which he puts in its own box although the thought of bringing a cooler didn’t cross his mind, so he leaves the fridge alone for the time being.
Moving onto the living room, he packs away the few blankets and pillows strewn about. He notices there isn’t a tv but instead the shelves are full of books. Some mystery, some action, and a lot of comic books but a majority of them are non-fiction or just textbooks. A few of the textbooks appeared to be from the boy’s middle school years, a larger amount look like he’s trying to keep up his education with high school level subjects but overall, the majority are college-level quirk study. Ranging from history to analysis to theory. He’d heard a few times in his short time knowing the boy that he likes quirks but if he’s reading and comprehending these books, then Hizashi has been majorly misinformed about this “hobby”.
He files away his questions for later as he packs the books away with the lighter items, so they don’t have to lug crammed boxes of bricks down almost a dozen floors, elevator or not. After the books, he finished his assigned job with the various trinkets around the room, so he decides to check on the kid.
He walks to the doorway and lightly knocks on the ajar door.
“You can come in,” Izuku answers.
With permission granted, Hizashi pushes the door open and is faced with a mostly cleared-out room. There are a few boxes filled and sealed up spread across the room, he even sees two more boxes labeled “books”. Labeling his boxes would’ve been a good idea, Hizashi thinks before shrugging it off. It’s definitely not too late to do so now, but he’s going to pretend that it is.
“I finished out there, is there anything you need help with here?” He asks.
“Um, I’m almost done, too but you can take down the posters if you want.”
“Sure thing, I’ll be super careful.” He receives a small smile before the boy goes back to packing his closet away. He looks to the walls and isn’t surprised to see a handful of hero posters. There’s one poster consisting of the current top ten in action poses, one that is less detailed but showcases a majority of the top 50, himself included, and three posters that are strictly the number one hero. “So, you like All Might?” Hizashi asks as he carefully peals one of the pieces of art off the wall.
“Mhm, he’s my favorite.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, I met him when he first came to the city a year ago. He was really nice.” The teen sounds far away, a fond memory he hopes. Izuku deserves more of those.
“Sounds exciting. Did you get anything signed?”
“One of my notebooks but it’s a bit messed up.”
“You know I bet I could get you another one if you’d like.”
“No. No, that's okay. Thank you though, for the offer.”
Conversation stagnates again until Izuku finishes sealing up his last box and Hizashi carefully puts the rolled-up posters in a partially filled box of what appeared to be old schoolwork. Once he confirms with the boy that they’ve gotten everything, the pair move on to actually moving.
Not for the first time in his life, Hizashi curses having a sleek vintage car as it takes multiple trips from apartment to apartment in order to move everything although not as many as it should have with the kid’s lack of possessions. No matter, they move room to room, clearing them of packed goods until they once again find themselves in the bedroom.
“Holy crap. I think we may have to separate these into some smaller boxes,” Hizashi grunts as he lets down one of the boxes of books Izuku had backed.
“It’s okay, I can carry them,” Izuku easily assures him. Hizashi goes to carefully let him down, but the kid just squats down and heaves the box into his arms.
“I don’t know how I feel about you carrying that so far,” Hizashi worries.
“I can do it. I trained a lot back when I wanted to go to UA, so I’ve carried much heavier stuff on much harder terrain,” Izuku explains.
Hizashi relents but grabs a lighter box of clothes in case there’s an accident on their way down. They don’t get far before Hizashi decides to take a chance. “You know it’s not too late to get into UA. My husband and I both work there so we can at least get you into general education and you’d be able to work up from there.”
Izuku tiredly shrugs his shoulders. “But I’m so behind them and I saw the sports festival, they’ve all got such powerful quirks. Everyone’s right, I’d never make it.”
“Don’t you know quirks aren’t everything? My husband and now my son beat out their entire year in their sports festivals with non-physical quirks. And you may not have a quirk like them but you’re obviously strong and wicked smart and I can see you have a big heart. I think if you still want to be a hero and you’re willing to put in the work then you could do it.”
“Maybe,” he says, obviously thinking, “maybe.”
After that, it only takes two more car trips but finally, long after lunchtime, they’re done. After a quickly put together meal, Izuku picks through the boxes, finding everything he needs and things he wants for the near future. When his kid is done taking out a minimalistic amount of belongings, Hizashi pulls out the posters he’d packaged before and sets them out of sight so the teen can’t fight the fact that they will be put up. They take the remaining boxes into their underground storage unit for safekeeping and spend yet another evening taking a well-deserved break.
Wednesday comes and goes with a slew of conversations where Hizashi talks to Izuku, texts Hitoshi, and calls Shouta who talked with Eri, but eventually they come to an agreement. Izuku and Hitoshi would share the boy’s current room while Eri would have the guest room to herself. With the sleeping arrangements set, he and Izuku clean up the apartment, go on a light shopping trip for the essentials a possessionless girl would need, and set up the guest room to look and feel more inviting. Unbeknownst to Izuku, he also ordered a real bed frame for the boy because even if he doesn’t stay with them Hizashi wants him to know he’ll always have a place in the Aizawa-Yamada-Shinsou home.
The much-anticipated day of Eri’s arrival and Shouta’s return happens on Friday of that week. Hitoshi got permission to come home a few hours early, which didn’t make much of a difference seeing as he was interning with an underground hero. That also explained why the hero student was napping at the table while he and Izuku made a warm, light meal. They’re cleaning up the little mess the making of the meal had created when Hizashi’s phone lights up and sounds off a ding.
After wiping his hands off with a hand towel he grabs his phone. “They’ll be here in five minutes. Okay, Izuku, why don’t you get cleaned up and I’ll finish up in here.” Izuku hums his agreement and walks towards the bathroom, jostling Hitoshi’s shoulder on his way past. What did he do to deserve such good kids?
He sees Hitoshi lift his head and wipe drool off his squished cheek. The tired boy glares at the residue before getting up and following his friend into the bathroom. Hizashi smiles and turns his attention towards tidying up the kitchen. Used utensils, cutting boards, and miscellaneous dishes are tossed into the sink, a problem for him to deal with later. He's turned the burner down to let the food finish cooking on a simmer and wiped down the slightly dirtied counters by the time he hears the doorknob jiggle.
“Boys, they’re here,” he calls down the hall, causing the two nervous but still excited teens to race out of the bathroom.
The trio waits in the living room as they hear the door open and two sets of shoes step into the genkan. A quiet, gruff voice simply explaining how to untie shoes and where to put them carries over, making Hizashi fall in love all over again. That love only multiplies when his no-nonsense husband with over a hundred expulsions under his belt enters the room hand in hand with an obviously anxious child.
“Everyone this is Eri, Eri this is my family,” he softly tells the girl then, even though her eyes are glued to the floor, he points to each member. “Hizashi, Hitoshi, and Izuku.”
That seems to catch the girl’s attention because she whips her head up and after a moment of processing her ruby-red eyes shine and a large smile takes over her face. “Nii-chan!”
Izuku gave the girl a soft smile and squats down, opening his arms which the girl gladly runs into. “Hey, Eri-chan.”
“I missed you so so much! I thought the bad guys got you.”
“That must have been a scary thought but I’m all good, see?” The teen proves this by pulling out of the hug and gesturing to his unmarred body.
“Yeah. Um, did you miss me Nii-chan?”
“I missed you lots and lots, more than I miss Katsudon.”
“Wow, that is a lot.”
“Mhm. You know I’ve heard hospital food isn’t very yummy, but Yamada-san made some lunch for everybody. I think they have some apples too, does that sound like a good treat?”
Eri gasps in excitement and wiggles in place. “Yes, please!”
Hizashi looks towards his partner for context but the dark-haired man mouths, “later,” so he drops it and instead holds his husband close to enjoy his growing family.
He knew this was coming from the second Eri had recognized him. He knew that the hero would connect the dots, probably had immediately, and that he would be taken into custody for his crimes. He’s only grateful the man had let him spend time with his little sister and his short-lived family for just a little while. However, that could only last so long and now with Eri passed out from an active evening and a warm meal the much scarier man had pulled him aside.
Izuku fidgets under the imposing man’s relentless gaze. It feels like he’s being dissected, like he’s a bacterial cell being observed through a microscope. He hates that feeling, he hates being judged. “Eri’s told me a lot about you. She loves you.”
The statement surprises him, to say the least. “I love her too, she’s like family to me.”
Aizawa-san hums and continues his endeavor to, well he doesn’t know what the man’s goal is. “You’re the missing member we’ve been looking for.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Why’d you betray them?”
Izuku looks away and shamefully admits, “I didn’t know what they were doing at first but then I met Eri-chan and I couldn’t just leave her behind. I would’ve done more to help her if I could but I’m sure Yamada-san told you that um- that I’m quirkless so, yeah.”
“What you did was very heroic.”
“No, it wasn’t,” he hisses, anger welling up in tandem with his growing tears. “I let her suffer, I helped them hurt her because I was so weak.”
“You understood your limits and you got back up. Sometimes being a hero isn’t about jumping in and saving people, sometimes you have to put yourself first in order to do your best work. Without your intel not only would there have been casualties but it would’ve taken months to obtain the evidence needed to act. You protected yourself, you helped us, and you saved Eri.”
Izuku’s crying worsens until he is all out bawling into his hands. This time the crying isn’t from sadness or anger but from happiness and relief. All he’s ever wanted to do was help people, to save them and this stranger had openly admitted that he, a quirkless kid, did just that. The man puts a rough hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing as his body shakes from the sobs. He doesn’t know how long they stand in the hallway, but the man waits until Izuku had calmed, giving one last squeeze before he releases his grip. Izuku immediately misses the contact.
“I am going to have to take you in to give a statement, but I'll be with you, and I’ll do everything I can to keep you out of trouble.”
“I know. Thank you and thank you for saving her, Aizawa-san.”
The dark-haired hero lifted a corner of his lips, an infinitesimal smile that calmed the last of the storm within Izuku. “It’s my job, kid.”
The next day, Shouta had done as promised and taken the kid to Nighteye agency since they had led the raid. After a few hours of giving his statement, a statement that cleared him of all assumed crimes, working out a more comprehensive timeline, reviewing his research, which was incredibly impressive for an almost 16-year-old, and signing NDAs due to the nature of the case Izuku was free to go. Besides a few bumps in the road to recovery, the remainder of the weekend was calm. However, the bubble they’d all created popped when Monday morning rolled around. Hitoshi and Shouta had classes and Hizashi couldn’t stay home forever but that also meant that Izuku and Eri would have to tag along until a more permanent system was put in place. So, with guest badges around their necks, the two siblings followed the men into the teachers' lounge.
A dreadfully familiar voice cooed at their arrival. “Who are these cuties?” Nemuri crowed.
While sometimes tolerable right now his friend’s voice made him want to curl into his sleeping bag and hibernate. Luckily for him, he wasn’t alone. “These are the kids Shou, and I are fostering. Eri and Izuku and this is a friend of ours, Kayama Nemuri.”
“Aw, it’s nice to meet you two. You can call me Nemuri if you’d like.” The 18+ hero bent down, offering a hand to Eri who reluctantly but curiously took it.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Kayama-san.”
The woman cackles as she firmly shakes Izuku’s hand. “You’re going to be a tough cookie to crack, aren’t you?”
Before anyone could respond another voice, a voice Shouta also doesn’t want to deal with, especially this early in the morning, calls from across the room. “Young Midoriya?”
Surprisingly Izuku actually answers the hero and the slip up when he greets the man makes the hero all the more skeptical. “Oh, um hi A-ah Yagi-san.”
Yagi strides across the room but while his movements are tense, and he looks upset his soft words are only full of concern. “Where the hell were you kid?”
“Language.” Shouta strictly reprimands.
The sickly blonde truly looks at the group and for the first time notices the five-year-old accompanying them. He coughs roughly into his hand and addresses him. “My apologies.”
Izuku shifts on his feet and looks up at the looming man between the fringe of his hair. “I’m really sorry for disappearing Yagi-san.”
“It-it’s okay but I was worried sick.”
The kid sniffles miserably and brokenly whispers, “I’m sorry.”
“May I have a hug, my boy?” Izuku doesn’t even answer, instead, he shoots forward and crushes the thin man’s middle. Yagi for all his surprise only wastes a second before he reciprocates the action. Shouta has no idea why Izuku and the number one hero are so close but as Yagi holds the teen and runs bony fingers through curly green locks he also wonders how long.
“I’m sorry to interpret your moment but we have a meeting with Nedzu.”
“Of course.” Izuku loosens his grip enough for the blonde to pull them apart. “I would still appreciate an explanation.”
“Okay but later.”
“Later.” he agrees.
“Wait, Aizawa-kun. During our conversation, young Izuku mentioned his stay with you would be temporary.” For being the number one hero Yagi always seems to be very unsure of himself which is evident in the way he fidgets uncomfortably as he awaits an answer.
Shouta raises an eyebrow. “Yes, my husband and I currently have emergency custody, what about it?”
“Well, if plans haven’t been made, I wanted to offer my home to him.”
“Do you even know what it takes to raise a child?” Shouta asks skeptically.
“I will admit children aren’t my strong suit,” Yagi starts slowly, “but I like to believe I’ve gotten better since the beginning of the year and even if I hadn’t, for Izuku, I’d learn, I will learn. Please just think about it.”
“These decisions are not up to me, however, I will bring it up with Izuku tonight,” Shouta promises.
“Thank you, Aizawa-kun.” Yagi bows slightly, showing his appreciation.
With that, Shouta walks out of the teacher’s lounge but throws a “Don’t thank me yet” over his shoulder. After all, this kind of situation was a long, winding road and there was no way to tell where it would lead them all.
“This is gonna give me a heart attack, Shouta back me up please,” Hizashi begs as he grips tightly to his shoulder.
Shouta opens one eye to take in the scene playing out before them but closes it once again, snuggling into his husband's lap. “Just don’t drop her,” he calls across the field. Hizashi slaps his chest, retaliation for not giving a shit he supposes.
“I won’t!” Izuku responds to the both of them as he once again hurls Eri fifteen meters into the sky, her squealing in delight on both the ascent and descent. “Are you sure you’re not just jealous, Hizashi-san?”
“I promise you I am not,” Hizashi huffs.
“Your loss old man,” their son snarks as he stands in front of his much shorter friend, about to experience the same treatment.
His human pillow huffs. “I will never understand their generation.” And Shouta can only scoff.
“Please we did stuff like that all time. Remember when Oboro and I would jump off the same building and see who would chicken out and catch themselves first?”
“I remember the round where you both had to be dragged to Chiyo’s office with broken legs,” Hizashi recalls.
“Mine were only fractured, thank you very much,” he defends, which meant he won no matter what anyone (everyone) said otherwise.
“Oh, are we talking about chicken?” Toshinori takes a seat on the blanket beside them. “My mentor used to love that game, although I didn’t have a suitable quirk to play myself, mostly just created large craters.”
“You’re all a bunch of adrenaline junkies,” Hizashi complains.
He jabs an elbow into the man’s stomach. “What’s that say about you then huh? You married one of them.”
“I think it says I’m just as crazy for loving you, them too.” Shouta can only stare and melt at the kind smile and fond voice his husband uses, a smile of his own growing in return.
“I don’t see what’s wrong with that,” Toshinori says and Shouta looks up at the man who he’s, against all odds, come to consider a friend. The retired hero looks ahead to their kids, to their future. “After all, what's not to love?”